Scattered
by Carlet
Summary: "A bright flash of lightning split the sky, slicing through the otherwise dark night, momentarily lighting up the world." Everyone in Storybrooke is mysteriously transported back to the Enchanted Forest. And nobody is aware of the amount of danger they are in. Everyone...save for the most unlikely paring.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Trying something new here, so hope y'all like it! This starts immediately after the events in 2x18 and then goes AU. **

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own anything. Never have, never will. **

Chapter 1

A bright flash of lightning splits the sky, slicing through the otherwise dark night, momentarily lighting up the world.

David subconsciously reaches over for his wife with the intention of comforting her, knowing that lightning is among the few things the brave Snow White/Mary Margaret fears, but his hand merely touches empty air. Thinking nothing of it, he rolls over and drifts back to a deep sleep.

If he'd only opened his eyes, he would've realized that things were terribly wrong.

* * *

_(Twelve hours earlier)_

Henry opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is that picture, perfectly positioned above his bed so it'd be the first thing he saw every morning. Him, Emma, Mary Margaret, and David. His mother, grandmother, and grandfather. Otherwise known as his family. It had been taken last week at the park. They'd gone out on that unusually sunny day, and then gone home and watched Henry's collection of Disney DVD's, mocking the ridiculous falseness of all the stories. Henry had wanted Neal to come too, but his father had said something about showing Tamara around Storybrooke. Henry knew it had something to do with Emma, but he wasn't willing to push the issue. Although he was still a bit mad that he'd been lied to, he knew his mother well enough to know that whatever happened between the two had been truly terrible.

He reaches up and touches the picture. It had been the best day of his life. That day, it had finally hit him that he truly had a family at last. He'd developed this superstition, this belief that as long as the picture was up, things would forever and ever remain this amazing.

"Henry, breakfast!" Mary Margaret calls from downstairs. Henry could smell the delicious aroma of pancakes cooking. His favorite breakfast. He hurriedly leaps out of bed, throwing on a random shirt as he descends the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over his sneakered feet.

"Whoa there, slow down." Mary Margaret laughs from the stove. "There's plenty for everyone."

Henry takes a seat at the table, already reaching for the syrup. David sits opposite him, head buried in the paper. As soon as his grandma sets the heaping plate in front of him, he dives for the nearest fork.

"Good morning!" Mary Margaret chirps as Emma shuffles into the kitchen, yawning hugely. She's the last one downstairs as usual.

"What's so good about it?" Emma grumbles as she sinks down into a chair. She was never much of a morning person.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Her mother teases as she hands her grumpy daughter a steaming mug of coffee. Emma rolls her eyes but accepts the caffeine.

Mary Margaret takes a seat at the table, a plate of pancakes in front of her as well. David begins telling them about the dwarves and how the beans are nearly ready to be harvested. Henry can't help but notice how his grandfather's eyes light up as the prospect of going back, back to the Enchanted Forest, is becoming more and more real. He also notes that Emma says nothing, silently sipping her coffee and glaring at the sunlight filtering in from the open window. Mary Margaret stays mum as well, but Henry can tell that she seems conflicted.

He knows it's a subject they'll have to discuss soon, as the bean harvest grows closer and closer. Would they go back or would they stay? Part of him wants to go back, to see what it was like. To learn how to fight with a sword and ride a horse. To be a real prince. But there's this other part of him that can't just leave Storybrooke behind. After all, it's home. It's been home for 11 years and counting. And there's the small fact that Emma might not want to go back.

Luckily, the conversation is changed before any arguments break out. Crisis averted. Henry sits back and lets the voices of his family wash over him. He continues to shovel pancakes into his mouth as he just enjoys being there, being in the company of people who love him. The apartment seems to light up with the sound of their voices, light that has nothing to do with the bright, albeit harsh, sunlight. It feels warm and cozy. Something he'd never experienced in the crisp, clean lines of Regina's chosen décor. It feels like…home.

Henry is enjoying himself so much that he almost remembers he has school today. He looks at the clock and starts. Nearly 7; time to go. He grabs his backpack and stands up, taking his plate to the sink.

"Gotta go." He says, shouldering the green canvas bag. "Bye! See you at school grandma!"

A chorus of bye's follow him as he exits the apartment. Even Emma abandons her usual grouchy morning disposition as she hugs him goodbye.

"Bye, kid." She pauses uncertainly. "Love you." His mother says after a beat. After the whole Neal conflict, things have been tense between the two.

"Love you too Mom." Henry hugs her back tightly, noticing her barely contained relief as he does so. He goes off to school, already looking forward to going back. Back home to his family.

* * *

Rumplestilskin, or Mr. Gold, as he is known in Storybrooke, frowns at the array of bottles in front of him. Each bottle holds a brightly colored bubbling liquid. He picks up the bottle with the bright blue substance, pouring it into a large flask, feeling like a kid taking a chemistry class. He adds a black, bubbly, soda like liquid and gently stirs the liquid, praying that this time it would work.

He'd been trying for _so _long. Even his extensive knowledge of magic hadn't prepared him for this. But it _had_ to work, for all the other options had been exhausted. And if this failed, well, he didn't want to think about the repercussions.

Gold's glad he kept the shop's sign flipped to Closed. Right now the last thing he needs is unnecessary intruders. He can hear the hustle and bustle of Storybrooke's residents as they prepare for another day. The mere sounds and cheerful chatters fill his heart with pain. For them, this is just another day. All of those happy, oblivious people make him want to scream. They don't know how bad he's hurting inside. But for him, if this works, this could change everything.

He looks out the open window as he waits for his concoction to brew. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a kid with a green canvas backpack walking towards the bus stop. Henry. Gold's jaw tightens at the sight of the boy. His grandson. His undoing. The one person that can ruin his entire life and everything he's worked so hard to build. But now is not the time. He has plans to deal with that later, so he forces his attention back to his creation.

_Yes._ He thinks as it begins to bubble over the flask. For the first time, something was happening. Maybe this would actually work. His heart begins to pound with excitement as the mixture spills over the edge of the flask.

He was finally going to get his life back.

* * *

"Here you go. One coffee." Ruby smiles as she slides the cardboard to go cup over the smooth marble counter.

"Thanks." Emma hands over a few crumpled dollars.. Normally she wouldn't need to stop by Granny's during the day, but the coffee machine at the station was broken. "Have a nice day." She says as she turns to go.

Just then, the door jingles, signaling the arrival of someone else. Emma looks up just in time to meet _his _eyes. The same eyes that have haunted her dreams for many years. The dreams that stopped after a while, but started again recently. The eyes that she looked into as she said I love you to someone for the first time in her life. The eyes that she can't help but go weak kneed around.

She notices that he's walking with _her._ Luckily, Emma has always had a great poker face. Unfortunately, he's one of the people who can read her like an open book. She wills herself to stay calm and wipes her face devoid of emotion as they approach. Though it can't be seen by the naked eye, Emma notes the slight hint of uncertainty behind the mask of calm.

She thinks about leaving, but decides against it, as it would seem rude. Not to mention weak. And she can't bear to appear weak in front of him. As they get closer, Emma finds herself reaching back to comb out her tangled blonde hair, but stops as she realizes what she's doing. She shouldn't care about what he thinks of her.

"Hey." Neal says as they reach the counter. Emma swallows back a wave of bitterness as she notices that Tamara's arm is linked through his. "What're you doing here?"

Emma holds up her coffee cup in response. "Coffee machine at the station broke."

"Ah." Neal nods. "Still can't live without coffee, I see." He smiles at her. The same smile that immediately transports her to that first day in Portland.

"Yep." Emma nods.

"Man, I still remember that one gas station in, where was it? Phoenix or something? You wouldn't leave until you got your caffeine fix." He blabs on, completely oblivious to her discomfort. Men. Emma notices that Tamara is glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. Emma doesn't blame her.

He continues reminiscing, and the whole time Emma is willing him to shut up. Just being near him...it was stirring feeling buried deep inside her, feelings that she hadn't felt in years. And that was scaring her senseless.

"I gotta go." She interrupts him in the middle of his tale about almost getting caught. "Nice seeing you."

"Oh. Ok." Neal says. For a second, Emma swears he doesn't want her to leave. But that is probably just her overactive imagination talking.

"Bye." Tamara nods politely, and Emma does the same.

"Bye Ruby." She calls over her shoulder. As she walks to her car, she takes deep breaths. The encounter with Neal left her more unsettled than she'd like to admit. She thought she was so good at hiding her feelings, at burying them deep inside, but she was wrong. Though she'd never voice it, she hadn't wanted to leave either.

* * *

(_Present day)_

David's body wakes him up before his alarm does. Behind his closed eyes, he notes that it's darker than usual. Mary Margaret insists on keeping the curtains over the bed open at all times, so every morning the sunlight filtering in nearly blinds him.

He reaches over to flick on the bedside lamp, but his hand hits empty air. Normally his hand crashes against the wooden end table. That's the first sign that something is wrong.

Thinking that his hand was just way off, he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. Absently, he notes that he's freezing. He reaches down for the blanket but grips nothing. Maybe they kicked it onto the floor during the night. But then he notes that the bed feels much harder than normal. Almost as if he was sleeping on a…marble floor?

David immediately sits up, rubbing his eyes blearingly. He opens them to see the strangest sight of his life.

He is in some sort of large, ornately decorated room. Some sort of cathedral, perhaps? It looks vaguely familiar, but at the moment he can't place it. The room seems to have suffered some sort of disaster, as the roof is caved in, revealing parts of a cloudy sky. He stands up. And then gasps out loud as he takes in what's before him.

He is surrounded by bodies. Bodies of…Storybrooke residents? He spots Archie, Ruby, Leroy, Mother Superior, and more. David immediately scrambles backwards. What happened? Everyone lay motionless in various places on the marble floor. Was everyone…dead? A nauseating wave of fear and dread hits him so hard he nearly falls. Had Regina gotten to them? Hurt everyone? He looks around frantically for his family, hoping, praying that they were ok. His heart nearly breaks as he spots Mary Margaret lying on her side, Emma nearby. He falls to his knees. His daughter and wife. His precious family. He has failed to protect them. Almost immediately, it feels as is his entire life flashes before his eyes. He had so little time with them. And now they are gone.

Just then, he hears a loud snore, and Emma rolls over. David backs up uncertainly. For the first time, he noticed that everyone seemed to be merely sleeping.

There are no signs of blood. Everyone's bodies seems unharmed. He hears loud snores coming from Leroy's direction, and sees that everyone is dressed in pajamas.

Maybe this is a dream. He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches himself as hard as he can, but when he opens his eyes he's still there. In that unknown room. With the sleeping bodies of Storybrooke's residents lying all around him. He repeats, pinching himself again and again, but the result is the same. He, along with the rest of Storybrooke, is still there. What happened? The last thing he remembered was going to bed back in the apartment last night. Had they somehow all been transported to this mysterious place overnight?

With a jolt, he realizes that he knows exactly what that room is. Where he is. Where everyone is.

The Enchanted Forest.

**Author's note: What do you think so far? As always, reviews are appreciated! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Sorry for the long wait. Studying for AP tests takes up a lot of time. **

Chapter 2

_The Enchanted Forest. No. There is no way. _

Those are the thoughts coursing through David's mind as he paces frantically around the large room. The room that he now recognizes as part of his old home. A room that is now nothing more than an empty shell. In the back of his mind, he can vaguely picture where the old round conference table used to stand, and the wooden chairs where the very conversation about the curse had taken place all those years ago. If you overlooked the caved in roof and debris, it was as if nothing changed.

He hears the sounds of someone stirring, and immediately whirls around. He can't help but feel on edge, despite the fact that he is back in a familiar place. He sees a figure among the cluster of sleeping Storybrooke residents sit up and stretch. The figure's black choppy haircut alerts him to the fact that it's Regina. He walks over towards her, stepping over everyone else, nearly tripping over someone's outstretched hand in his haste to reach the Evil Queen. Out of anyone, she has to have answers.

"What happened?" He blurts, trying to keep his voice down. The last thing he needs right now is a mass panic. He feels himself begin to tremble with fear, and he forces himself to stay calm.

"What're you talking about?" Regina's voice oozes irritation as she combs through her black haircut. She doesn't seem to have noticed their current predicament.

"Look around." David snaps. Regina does so, and her eyes immediately widen in alarm as she takes in the scene before her.

"What? But this is..." She gasps. "W-what happened?" For once, the Evil Queen is at a loss. It is such an unnerving sight that David can't help but turn away.

"That's what I would like to know." He replies brusquely. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Regina counters, standing up and placing her hands on her hips defensively. "I did nothing."

David stares deep into her eyes. Into the eyes that have haunted his dreams for so long. The eyes belonging to the person who single handedly screwed up his family's life. He backs up uncertainly. Unlike usual, Regina's eyes are pools of fear. They don't sparkle with the usual hateful malice. It was the same look David usually saw when she looked upon Henry. A look of concern. His brain is telling him not believe her, yet his gut instinct is telling him that she's telling the truth. That she really doesn't know. That she's innocent.

His stomach plummets. "You don't know?" An edge of fear creeps into David's voice. Somehow this doesn't make him feel any better. At least if he knew it was Regina, he'd have a goal. A target. A tangible purpose. But now, he doesn't have any answers. And as someone who others naturally looked to as a leader, that scared him senseless. If Regina didn't know what was going on, it couldn't be good.

"No." The Evil Queen shakes her head vigorously. "I _don't_."

They are silent for a long moment.

"We must've traveled through a portal somehow." Regina deduces, pacing around.

"But how?" David asks. "I thought those were hard to make."

"They are." She confirms.

"So how could one just mysteriously pop up out of nowhere?"

"Does it look like I know?" Regina snaps. "Maybe it has something to do with your magic beans." She pauses for dramatic effect as David's face pales. "When were you gonna tell me about that? Did you really think you could keep a secret from me?" Her eyes flash with hatred and…was that loneliness?

"Doesn't matter." David shakes his head dismissively. "It can't be the beans. Anton and the dwarves said they weren't ready for harvest yet."

"Well it looks like they were!" Regina hisses. She too, understands the need to keep things quiet for now. For once, they are on the same page. United against an unknown enemy.

"Isn't this what you always wanted?" Regina says sarcastically. "You were growing those beans for a reason."

David is silent for a moment, contemplating Regina's comment. It's true, he has dreamt of returning to the Enchanted Forest for ages now. At the very least, it would solve a lot of problems. Plus...he can't help but admit that he's missed being a Prince. A hero. A deputy for a small town just doesn't cut it. Not compared to his past life.

But no. He can't help but feel that there is something terribly wrong. They didn't just get transported back because of fate. There was another, more malevolent explanation. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can do so, he hears sounds of people waking up. Cries of surprise and shrieks of fear as people begin to realize that they are not safely in their homes.

The air is suddenly peppered with questions. The mass panic has begun.

"Where are we?" Red says frantically.

"I-is this a dream?" Leroy asks in wonder. "Am I where I think I am?"

"What happened?" Someone else, an unidentified voice, asks. "Am I hallucinating?"

David stands in the middle of the swirling chaos. He hears children crying, families shouting, and people protesting.

"Regina!" Someone shouts. "She did this!"

Immediately, the crowd turns hostile as they ball their fists and begin to look around for the Evil Queen.

"Kill her!" He hears an angry cry, and the crowd roars their approval.

David pushes through the crowd, for his first priority is to locate his family. He desperately attempts to find Mary Margaret, Emma, and Henry, to bring them elsewhere so they can regroup and figure out what happened, but fails. They seem to have vanished, and the crowd is too thick. Already, the ruckus is getting worse. People are growing increasingly frustrated. Fights are beginning to break out as families and friends accuse each other of sabotage. People are getting trampled. He knows he has to do something. Stop the chaos. Regina had magic, so this could easily turn into a bloodbath.

_I need to get everyone's attention._ He thinks as he looks frantically around. He spots an old hunk of wood that appears to be from the old conference table and manages to stand up on it. _This will have to do. _Finding his family will just have to wait.

"Everyone!" He shouts at the top of his lungs. From his new vantage point, he tries once again to spot his family, but there are too many people. A tiny spark of frustration flares in his chest. "Quiet down!" He waves his arms in the air. Slowly, everyone turns towards him. He cringes as he sees the faces before him; the anger and fear that mirror his own tumultuous feelings.

Suddenly, all the questions are directed towards him.

"What happened?"

"Are we back?"

"Is this the Enchanted Forest?"

The questions came faster and faster.

"How did this happen?"

"Are we really back?"

"Who did this?"

"Settle down." David says. "This is not Regina's fault."

"He's lying!" Someone calls dismissively, and the crowd grows rowdy once again. Fists are waved in the air and David sees makeshift weapons clutched in angry fists.

"Listen!" He shouts forcefully. That does the trick, as everyone quiets, albeit unwillingly.

"What's going on?!" Someone asks. The crowd murmurs their agreement.

"I don't know." David admits. "I…"

"We're doomed." Someone in the crowd laments. "We might as well start digging our graves."

"Wait a minute." David holds up a hand, his stomach twisting itself into knots. Never before has he felt so hopeless. In so many ways, this situation mirrors the day after Mary Margaret and Emma disappeared, but at the same time it is so much worse. Last time he had a direction. A purpose. And now…he doesn't have any answers. Nothing to offer. They are fighting against an unknown force, and a powerful one too.

"It's true. I don't know what happened." David continues. He is aware of the defeat in his voice, like he is on the verge of giving up entirely. But he knows he has to stay strong. "I'm just as confused as all of you are. I woke up here shortly before you did."

"Yes, we are back in the Enchanted Forest." He confirms. The crowd squirms visibly under his gaze, but everyone remains quiet, their attention focused on their Prince, their chosen leader. "For those of you who don't know, this is indeed my old home. Or at least it's ruins."

"This is not Regina's fault. Believe me, I am fully aware of her past actions and reputation. Of who she is. But I am certain that _Regina did not cause this._ As your Prince, I am begging you to trust me on this. She is innocent." He reiterates, carefully enunciating every word loud and clear.

"It is imperative that everyone remain calm until we find a solution. I know things look bad now, but we need to look on the bright side. We have shelter and each other. And let's face it. How could things be anyworse?" He meets each and every single gaze before him, hoping that this will be enough to get his point across.

"Some of us are familiar with the area. Others can help repair the castle. I know everyone's scared, myself included. But for now, everyone needs to stay calm and work together. Together, as a community, I assure you we can resolve this issue." David finishes, half amazed at how well he was able to compose this speech out of thin air. Public speaking had never been one of his strengths. However, it seems as though his speech did the trick, for people are beginning to nod. Weapons are slowly lowered and the crowd murmurs their approval. David sighs with relief. With everyone under control, it'd make things a lot easier.

He begins splitting everyone up into various committees. A group for finding food, a team in charge of repairs, a medical area. He appoints Granny in charge of hunting and the dwarves in charge of building. The citizens of Storybrooke organize themselves, forming clusters. David steps back and smiles as he sees Granny already leading a group out to the forest, crossbow in hand. Out of anyone, Granny is someone David knows he can trust, especially when it comes to hunting. Leroy is gathering up his fellow dwarves, beginning to bark out instructions in that familiar and somewhat endearing way. The familiarity of it makes him smile for a moment. He almost forgets about their current predicament. It is still chaotic, but now the chaos has a sense of order. Something that as a prince he especially appreciates.

As he sees a young mother lead her two kids to the first aid area, it occurs to him that he still hasn't found his family. He stands on his tiptoes, trying to see through everyone's heads, but there are too many similar looking blondes, too many young boys, and too many women that resemble his wife. He's never realized before just how many people there are in Storybrooke.

Finally, he catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret's profile. Without hesitation, he immediately rushes towards her. She is standing alone, in a corner of the bustling room. As David shoves his way across the room, he develops tunnel vision, for all he can see is her. Vaguely, he notes that her distance from the rest of the crowd is very uncharacteristic of her. The Snow White he knows so well would never merely stand there in the middle of a crisis. She'd be out in the middle of it, trying her hardest to help everyone. That's who she is. She's always placed others above her. And yet, she's just _standing _there, staring down at the cracked marble floor.

Her tear struck face stops him short, brings him to a crashing halt.

"Mary Margaret?" He stops tentatively before her, mentally assessing his wife's appearance. She doesn't appear to be hurt or injured, and he knows her well enough to know that she wouldn't let a little fear get in her way.

He places her hands on her shoulders, feeling her trembling body underneath his fingertips. Her gaze remains down as she crumples into him. She seems so unlike herself, so weak and vulnerable and…_scared._

"What's wrong?"

She doesn't say anything.

"Look, I know you're scared, but everything's ok." He says soothingly. "We're gonna work on a way to go back, I promise."

As she remains silent, it occurs to him that it's unlikely that being back in the Enchanted Forest would scare her so much. Once the initial shock wore off, there's no reason she'd be huddling in a corner, crying.

He forces her chin up with one hand. The look in her eyes fills his heart with the dreadful realization that this is about so much more than being back.

Her eyes are wide pools of fear as she regards him. "Charming…" Her voice is a mere whisper, her voice full of panic. Tears are pouring down her cheeks, cutting rivers down the face he knows so well.

"What? What's wrong?" He asks urgently, reaching out to wipe away some of the tears with her thumb. He notes that she's called him _Charming_. Not David. She hasn't called him Charming in so long.

Her next words bring home the fact that he'd been wrong when he said that things couldn't get any worse. Things _could _worse.

"The baby's gone."

**Author's note: So what do you think that means? Unfortunately, I won't be able to update till the end of May (at least till May 23rd), due to AP testing. So plz review and I promise I'll try to update ASAP. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Hey y'all! I know I said I couldn't update till the 23rd, but I only have 1 AP test and didn't feel like studying so here you are, a brand new ch! **

Chapter 3

The words echo repeatedly in his head, causing it to throb like a bass drum. _The baby's gone._ Three very simple words, yet so indicative. Indicative of everything else that could possibly go wrong.

David feels dizzy and nauseous, his brain spinning, trying its hardest to process the statement his wife has just made. For a moment, he'd let himself believe that everything would be ok. How ridiculous that was, to even linger on the hope that the worst was over.

"_What?_" He asks, panic filling his voice. "B-but I just saw her! She was right next to you." He can feel himself growing more and more desperate. He recalls having seen Emma earlier, lying next to Mary Margaret. Have things gotten so bad, bad enough that his daughter had gotten trampled? For a second, he hopes that by gone Mary Margaret merely means missing. But Emma's absence wouldn't elicit such a strong reaction from his wife.

"This is just a mistake." He says. "You're just confused. Mistaken."

Mary Margaret shakes her head slowly. "Does it look like I'm kidding?" She whispers.

"Is she…dead?" He bites his lip, looking at his wife for confirmation. She nods slowly, tears cutting rivers down her rapidly paling cheeks.

_No._ He thinks. That's the only word coursing through his mind as he sinks against the wall, his head in his hands. He begins pulling out fistfuls of hair as he hits the cold stone floor, tears already streaming down his cheeks. _No._ Emma, his daughter, his precious baby girl, is dead. Dead. Gone. He's failed to protect her. The one, job, the most basic thing in the world a father had to do, and he's failed at it. Failed ever since the day Emma was born. By sending her to Storybrooke alone, he'd cursed her to a life alone. A horrible, painful life that no one should ever have to suffer. And now…she's dead. As a result of his actions. There were a thousand different things he could've done. Done to protect her. But he's too late.

He starts shaking uncontrollably, his face buried in his hands as he sobs. Sobs for the daughter he's barely known. The daughter he loved _so _much. The daughter he hardly spent time with. He feels Mary Margaret sink down next to him, and he places an arm around her. They hold each other, consoling each other as they mourn the loss of the daughter whose life they'd inadvertently cursed.

After about an eternity, he looks up, wiping the tears off with his sleeve. He hears shouts and voices rising, and he knows that despite this tragedy, he still has responsibilities. He has to prevent this from happening to anyone else. And they have to find Emma's body. She deserves a proper burial.

"C'mon." He says gently. "We have to find her." He helps her up, and they stand shakily. Taking her hand, he leads her across the room, bracing himself for the sight of his daughter's dead body. David catches a glimpse of a tall blonde that looks surprisingly like Emma. He rubs his eyes. It's the grief and lack of sleep talking. But then the blonde turns her head, and there's no mistaking that it's Emma.

Sweet, pure relief fills his body as he stumbles backwards, tears pouring down his face again. Only this time, they are tears of joy. "I was right. Emma's not dead." The happiness is palpable in his voice as he breaks out into a smile for the first time that day.

"Yes she is." Mary Margaret argues.

"She's right there." David says, pointing at his daughter. Other than a little messy haired, she appears to be perfectly fine, unhurt and unharmed. She seems particularly angry, but he can deal with that later. Right now he's just so thankful that she's alive.

"Who's that?" Mary Margaret blinks.

David looks at her strangely. "Her." He points at their daughter. "Emma. Over there. She's alive. I was right. You were just mistaken."

"Charming, that's not my daughter." Her voice rises, growing more and more high pitched as she becomes visibly upset. "That's not Emma. Emma's just a baby. _Was_ just a baby." Her voice breaks on the word was.

_What?_

Something clicks in his mind. He recalls Mary Margaret's use of the words _the baby's gone._ That's a rather odd thing to call Emma. In fact, he's never heard his wife refer to their daughter as _the baby_ before. It's always been Emma. Except before Emma was born, that is. And then there was the fact that she'd called him Charming. Not David, but Charming. When was the last time she'd called him that? At the very least, not before the curse.

His eyes widen with realization as he puts the pieces together. Could it be possible?

"What are you talking about?" He asks slowly. "Your daughter's not dead, and she's not a baby. She's alive, and she's right there. By the window." He points straight at Emma.

"That's ridiculous." Mary Margaret counters. "She can't be my daughter. She's my age!"

"Yes, but…" A sinking feeling fills his chest as Mary Margaret's words basically confirm his worst fears.

She's forgotten everything. She doesn't remember the curse or anything that happened after it.

* * *

What happens next purely happens on an adrenaline rush, as David barely recalls what he does next. Dimly, he is aware that he tells Mary Margaret to stay there. He dashes off, pushing people aside in his desperation to find the two people who can possibly fix this. Restore Mary Margaret's memories. Regina and Gold. The Evil Queen and Rumplestilskin.

The shouts and chaos are growing louder, much like before. He should've known better than to assume that a simple speech would calm people down for long. After all, they are in the middle of a crisis. He hears people call out for him, for his help, but he ignores them, casting aside the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows he has a duty to help these people but right now helping his wife is his priority.

"David!" It's Leroy. "Terrible news!"

"I know, I know." He says absently. "We're stuck back in the Enchanted Forest." He cannot keep the impatience out of his voice. "Now, would you please excuse me? I have bigger problems to deal with."

"No, not that." Leroy snorts. "Dopey's forgotten his Storybrooke life!" He blurts.

The words cause him to stop short. "Wait. What?"

"He's not the only one." Leroy tells him. "Sidney, Marco, Belle, Nova. They've all forgotten!"

His eyes widen as he takes in this fact. The fact that Mary Margaret is not the only one. He tells the dwarf this, and Leroy's scowl deepens further, something David didn't think was possible.

"There you are!" A breathless Ruby comes up to him. "D-David! I was trying to help Granny organize a hunting party when we found out that…"

"That a lot of people lost their Storybrooke memories." David says grimly. "I already know. Mary Margaret has this too."

"What are we gonna do?" She asks. "People are starting to panic again."

As if on cue, they hear the loud sound of breaking glass.

"I don't know." David suddenly feels about eighty years old. Without Mary Margaret to help him, he feels so helpless. Calming people down and organizing them was hard enough. And now this? He runs his hands through his messy hair. For the first time, he thinks about how unfair it is that he has to deal with all of this. What he wouldn't give to be taken care of for once, instead of being forced to come up with solutions to problems he doesn't even completely understand.

"I know." Leroy growls. "Take this straight to the person responsible. Regina!"

"No wait." David holds up a hand. "It wasn't her. But you're right. Maybe she can help."

A small part of him says that this isn't a good idea. Since when was the last time Regina willingly helped them? But what choice do they have, for Gold is even less likely to provide assistance.

* * *

For the past several hours, the only words running continuously through Emma's head are the words what the hell. What the hell happened? More importantly, where in the hell is she? Some sort of castle? The last thing she remembers is blowing out that candle back in her apartment. Lighting the match and holding it against the cheerily colored candle poking out of her favorite kind of cupcake. Her 28th birthday, one of the many that she's spent alone. She remembers making that truly pathetic wish that she wouldn't have to be alone for once on her birthday. And after that…nothing. No matter how hard she tries to force herself to recall the events after blowing out that candle, she just can't seem to remember.

Emma looks around, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. She feels herself growing more and more annoyed. All she can tell is that she is in some sort of large cathedral, castle looking type that looks as though it was hit by a large earthquake. The strangest side of all was that the large room she was in looked like a big refugee camp. People were running around in panic, yelling for help.

Absently, she pinches herself again and again for about the fiftieth time that morning. _Maybe I've had more to drink than I realized._ This has got to be a dream. Right? All of this seems so unreal. The room before her resembles some type of castle from a fairy tale, which is completely ridiculous. The people running around call each other strange names, names that sound like they came straight out of fairy tales. What is with the fairy tale motif?

Speaking of the people. Emma barely holds back a groan as a large group of short looking men comes running up to her, worry etched all over their unfamiliar faces. All day, this has been happening; people keep approaching her with worries and questions, as if they expect her to do something. And she has no idea why.

"Emma!" They approach her. "Dopey's lost all his memories of Storybrooke."

_Um, what? What was a Storybrooke? _Emma just blinks at this strange looking group. "Do I know you?" She squints. "Did you say Dopey?" She barely holds back a snort, despite her confusion. The idea that Dopey, as in Dopey Dwarf, is real is just too ridiculous to fathom.

"Sheriff!" Someone else calls. "Belle's forgotten too!"

Emma gapes at these people. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about. Do I even know all of you?" _Belle? As in…Beauty and the Beast Belle? _

One of the short men, a grumpy looking one with a black beard exchanges a look with one of his friends. "Uh oh. Not her too."

"We better tell David."

"Who?" Emma asks. "Never mind." She shakes her head. "Listen, I'm sorry about your problem with…er Dopey." She bites back a grin. "But I have no idea who you are and what you're talking about. I think you're better off finding someone else." She says firmly, using the voice she reserves for creepy foster brothers and lowlifes in alleys.

The group immediately backs off, although the grumpy looking man shoots her a glare as he walks away with the rest of his friends.

_Sheriff?_ Emma thinks. What in the _hell _were these strange people talking about? Since when is she a sheriff? And why did they act like they know her, when clearly she would remember if she's met them before. Her brain hurts with all of this. All she wants it to be back in her soft bed, sleeping off this obvious alcohol induced hallucination. Away from this weird place with these weird people.

"Emma! There you are!" Someone places their hand on her shoulder. She instantly tenses under the touch, for she knows that hand. That touch.

Neal.

_No. Neal? _She thinks desperately. _Not here, please. Not now._ Her breath immediately quickens and she feels her heart start to pound at a speed that is surely not normal. Spots dance in her vision as she whirls around and faces the man before her. The man who ruined the last eleven years of her life. Who single handedly took her heart and crushed it without a single thought. Who just let her go to jail and suffer. The first person who she truly felt at home with, and the last. After Neal, Emma never let herself trust anyone anymore. It was just too risky, too painful.

"W-what are you doing here?" Her voice shakes, and she hates it. If this is indeed a nightmare/hallucination brought on by the alcohol, then fate has a cruel sense of humor.

_Lesson learned._ Emma thinks grimly. _I'll never drink again. Not if it warrants this. _

Emma raises her arms and tilts her head back. "Alright, I've learned my lesson. I'll stay away from alcohol for the rest of my life. Can I wake up now?" She is aware of how ridiculous this looks; her face grows hot as she feels the weight of Neal's stare on her. Dammit. Even in an alcohol induced dream he has this affect on her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that when they open, she'll be back at home. Nursing a massive hangover, but at home. Away from all these strange people and _him._ But as she slowly opens them again, she comes to the realization that this is in fact not a dream. That is reality.

"No." She gasps, a sinking feeling growing deep inside. It makes her feel panicky and out of control, two feelings she's always hated. Suddenly weak kneed, Emma reaches out and touches the wall, as if it's the only thing anchoring her to reality. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? Did you bring me here?" Anger is infused in her voice as the feelings that have been building inside for more than a year are slowly being released. "Haven't you ruined my life enough?" Her voice cracks on the word enough, and she feels hot tears slowly build in her eyes. She blinks them back, forcing them to stay inside.

"Emma. What're you talking about…?" He shakes his head impatiently. "Enough with the theatrics. Henry's missing and I need your help." He grabs her hand. "Come on."

"Get off!" She shakes him off instinctively, yet a small part of her, a part that hates to admit it, craves his touch. "After everything you've done, who the hell do you think you are? You have _no _right to touch me." Her voice is thick with fury as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, fire igniting in her eyes, her body stiffening with rage.

Part of her is happy to see him. After all, though she'll never admit it, there is just something about him that makes her stomach flutter excitedly. That makes her heart pound. She's missed him, more than she'll ever let herself believe. He was, after all, her first love. The first person she truly let guard down around.

But she reminds herself that Neal is _not _a good person. That he is the practically the sole reason she's so miserable. And alone. She's certain that she's never hated anyone as much as she hates him at this moment. He just stands there, gaping at her, a confused look on his face.

"Sorry." He mutters. "Force of habit." He looks down, scratching his head awkwardly. "But seriously, come on. Henry's missing."

"Who?" Emma snaps immediately. She sighs. "Alright, listen. I don't know where we are or what you want. People have been coming up to me all day asking for help, acting like they know me, and I don't get why anyone doesn't seem to understand the fact _I don't know any of you._ I mean obviously I know you, but that's it. I don't know who Henry is, so maybe you'd be better off finding someone else." Emma says, wanting nothing more than to get away from Neal. Their whole exchange has left her feeling vaguely unsettled in a way that she can't explain.

Neal regards her curiously. "Henry's your son." He says slowly.

The room starts to spin as the word son echoes over and over in her head. Son. How does he know that? She had the baby in jail and signed up to give him up for a closed adoption the moment she found out she was pregnant. She hadn't told a soul and the doctors were sworn to confidentiality.

"H-how did you know that?" She feels dizzy and nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with her hangover. "Have you been stalking me?"

"You told me…" He says confusedly. "In New York, remember?"

"_What?" _Emma gasps. "New York?"

"Emma! What the hell are you doing?" He places her hands on her shoulders. "Look, I get that you're angry at me, but seriously?! Henry might be in danger! We have to find him!" His voice is laced with thick desperation. "Why are you acting like…?" Realization dawns on his face. "…like you don't remember anything?"

Without another word, Neal grabs her by the arm and starts dragging her across the room. "Not you too." He groans. "I better take you to your parents."

_Parents?_

"Neal!" Emma attempts to shake him off, but his grip is much too strong. He's always been stronger than her. "Parents? You're delusional! Get the fuck off!" She thrashes around, trying to get him to release her, but he is determined as he drags her over to one of the various tents set up around the cavernous room.

As she is hauled through the room, she catches a glimpse of a couple among a group of other people. The man, a tall prince looking type who appears as if he comes straight out of an illustration of a fairy tale, is talking feverishly to a dark haired nun. The woman has short black hair, and she keeps looking down and patting her flat stomach, a pinched up expression on her face, as if she's expecting something to be there. Her chin is startlingly similar to Emma's, and Emma can't help but feel drawn to them.

There is something about the couple that strikes a deep chord inside her. She cannot shake the feeling that she's somehow connected to these people. Especially the worried looking couple. That she's known them for some time. But she has no memory of them.

* * *

"Memory loss?" Mother Superior/the Blue Fairy cocks her in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Very." David nods his head vehemently. "She doesn't remember anything the curse or anything that happened after that."

As if on cue, Mary Margaret chimes in. "Curse? What're you talking about?"

"Nothing." David reassures his wife, but he cannot stop the gnawing knot of desperation grow in his stomach. "Don't worry about it."

He continues talking to Mother Superior. He had intended to talk to Regina, but he figures asking the Blue Fairy first wouldn't hurt. "And she's not the only one. I talked to Leroy and he told me that Belle and some others have forgotten too."

"Not just them!" A voice calls, growing louder as it approaches. David turns around to see Neal half dragging Emma towards them, Emma struggling and cursing all the way. Part of him wants to punch that bastard in the face for treating his daughter that way, but the look on Neal's face stops David short as he realizes that Emma's forgotten too.

_No. _He thinks. _Not Emma too._

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" David urges Mother Superior.

"I'm afraid I don't." Mother Superior shakes her head. "I would assume that this is a side effect of whatever brought us back, but I don't even know how we were transported…"

He sighs with frustration. Just when he thinks he's got his family back together, his wife and daughter forgets everything.

"I hate to say this, but I think we need to ask Regina or Gold for help." Mother Superior suggests. David nods grimly, but before he can go to find her, the Evil Queen appears in a cloud of purple smoke.

"I wouldn't bother." Regina says, her voice laced with…resignation. Her face is drawn and pale and she appears to be defeated, her figure drooped over. "We've got bigger problems."

"Like what?" David can't help but snap, momentarily forgetting that this time Regina is not the enemy. "My wife and daughter, not to mention countless other people, have lost their memories."

Regina steps up to him, so close their noses are practically touching. "Like the fact that Henry and Gold aren't here."

**Author's note: Will try to update ASAP. Promise! In the meantime, plz review! Pretty, pretty please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Thanks sooo much for all the reviews! You have no idea how happy they make me. Anyway, finally finished all AP tests, so blew off all hw and speed finished this ch. **

Chapter 4

The first thing Henry notices is the silence. The thick, encompassing silence that envelopes the entire room. He rolls over in bed, carefully sitting up. That's odd. Usually at this time the apartment would be filled with the sounds of his family: the clink of silverware, the crack and hiss of bacon in the frying pan, the gentle popping sounds of the coffeemaker.

It's not just the silence. The apartment has this odd air about it. It feels colder than usual, and as Henry walks downstairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes, vaguely unfriendly. Figuring that maybe they just forgot to turn on the heat, he heads into the kitchen. Expecting Mary Margaret to be there already, preparing breakfast, he is taken aback to find the kitchen empty.

_Ok, no biggie._ He reassures himself as he steps into the living room. Maybe everyone is just oversleeping, though that seems weird since his grandparents are always so punctual. He knocks on his grandparent's door, waiting for a response. But thirty seconds later, all is still silent. Henry then tries Emma's door, but gets the same silence.

"Mom?" He calls, searching through every room in the two story apartment. But he finds no one. There is no one in any of the bathrooms, kitchen, dining area, or living room. Henry even peeks into each bedroom. But no is there. The apartment is empty, silent, devoid of all life, save for him.

Everything seems different. It's as if the absence of his family has affected the entire apartment. The furniture seems tall and imposing; the normally friendly and warm apartment seems completely different.

His heart starts hammering. What if something happened to his family? They wouldn't just be gone like that. Still, he forces himself to ignore it, to push his fears to the back of his mind, as he begins his morning routine, brushing his teeth and washing his face, going through all the motions on autopilot. His stomach grumbles, already missing his grandmother's home cooked breakfasts, so he chokes down a granola bar. Vaguely, Henry is aware that there is something horribly wrong, but he convinces himself that his family has just left without him, no matter how strange that seems.

Grabbing his backpack from his bed, Henry stops to touch the picture above his bed, hoping that his suspicions will be proven wrong.

* * *

"What exactly do you mean by not here?" David says, his face still mere inches from Regina's. They are locked in a death stare, neither wanting to shift their gazes. In the background, David can hear Emma's angry shouts, peppered with colorful words, along with Mary Margaret's confused murmurs, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

"Exactly what it sounds like." Regina answers.

"As in…back in Storybrooke?" David asks tentatively, already half knowing, half expecting the answer. Regina nods bitterly, and he steps back in shock and disbelief for about the millionth time that day, a wave of shock and nausea passes through him. First they were mysteriously transported here. And then came the revelation that nearly half the people have lost their memories. And now…this?

"Are you sure?" He asks, though it's glaringly obvious that Regina isn't lying.

The Evil Queen rolls her dark eyes. "Does it look like I'd lie about my son? I've been looking for him for the last three hours. He's not here and no one has seen him."

"What about Gold?" Mother Superior interjects.

"Him too." Regina nods. "Once I realized that Henry was missing I immediately called for Rumplestilskin, who I know by experience never fails to show up. But when he didn't…then I knew."

"This can't be happening." David mutters.

"Well it looks like it is." Regina snaps. "Figure out what to do, _prince._" She hisses angrily.

"Me?" David retorts. "Why me? You're the one with magic. Mix some potions together and send us home."

"Oh gee, if it was only that easy." Regina says sarcastically. "Potions have always been Gold's thing, and portals aren't easy to make. They require specific ingredients, ingredients that I have no means of procuring."

They continue to glare at each other, hatred coming off in waves through their heated stares.

"Stop!" Ruby waves her arms in a lame attempt to divert their attention. "We need to work together if we're gonna get back!"

"No way in hell I'm working with _Prince Charming._" Regina spits.

"Well it's your lucky day, cuz I feel the same about you, _your Majesty." _David counters.

"Look, if you wanna get back to Henry," Ruby turns to Regina. "And if you wanna help Emma and Mary Margaret, we don't have a choice. We have to work together." She reiterates.

Both Regina and David look as though they'd rather do anything but, though after a few heated seconds they nod begrudgingly.

* * *

As Neal watches Regina and David duke it out, he suddenly realizes with a guilty jolt that he's forgotten about one of the most important people in his life, his fiancée Tamara. He's been so distracted with trying to find Emma and Henry that he's let Tamara slip to the back of his mind. No doubt she's scared out of her mind right now, stuck in a strange land. He's freaked out enough, and he's _from _here. He cannot imagine how she's feeling right now, all alone, surrounded by strange people. It's probably similar to his first days in London, forced to steal in order to survive, trying to swallow back that gut wrenching feeling of loneliness and abandonment that clouded his eyes with tears every night for months.

Neal can't help but feel personally responsible for Henry's predicament. If only he'd kept a better eye on him. Does Henry even know why everyone's gone? As someone who knows how it feels to be abandoned, he wants nothing more than to start searching for his son immediately, though he knows that doing so would be futile. If Henry is truly stuck in Storybrooke (with his father, no less), then there is nothing he can do now.

He turns to Mother Superior. "Can you keep an eye on Emma?" He asks, knowing full well she'd run away as soon as he wasn't there to stop her. After all, running is one of the things she does best; no one knows about any possible dangers lying outside, and the last thing Neal wants is for Emma to get in some sort of trouble. "I have to find my fiancée." He mutters this last bit. Something inside him doesn't want Emma to find out about Tamara all over again.

Emma immediately begins to protest, just as he's expected. Some things never change. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not a kid!" She shoots a glare at Mother Superior as she approaches. "You people are crazy!" Luckily, she doesn't seem to have heard him say fiancée. He doesn't know why he suddenly breathes a sigh of relief.

"Of course." Mother Superior answers.

"Great. Thanks." Neal nods. Vaguely, he wonders why the idea of finding Tamara seems so unappealing. He reassures himself that it just has to do with his worry over Henry's absence. Right?

He starts pushing his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for his fiancée. He notices that chaos is building, as more people are beginning to realize that some of their loved ones have lost their memories. He knows he should do something to help, but not before finding Tamara. He's left her alone for long enough.

He finds her finally. She is in a relatively empty corner of the cavernous room. She appears to be deep in conversation with someone wearing a brown coat. As the person turns, he catches a glimpse of his profile, and he sees that it's Greg. That random tourist.

_Umm, what?_ Neal thinks as he approaches them. "Hey." His voice is hardened by what he recognizes as jealousy. _What does he think he's doing with my fiancée? _

"There you are." Tamara's voice is filled with relief as she embraces him.

"Sorry." Neal says, his eyes still on Greg. For a moment, it seems as though Greg's eyes flash with…envy? "I was just lost in the crowd for while." For some reason, he decides it wouldn't be a good idea to mention Emma.

"Where are we?" Tamara asks. "What happened? Is there what I think it is?"

"Tell you later." He says, not wanting to go into the whole magic discussion in front of Greg. "Is everything ok over here?"

"Yeah." Tamara answers. "I was just comforting him." She gestures at Greg. "I think he's lost his memory or something. I was walking around, trying to find you, when I come across him having a nervous breakdown. And I couldn't just leave him like that."

"Of course." Neal nods as his worries immediately dissolve. That makes sense. Tamara has always had this compassionate side, which is one of the reasons he fell in love with her. In the time Neal has known Tamara, she has never been able to resist helping people in need, whether they are friends or complete strangers.

He turns to Greg, who he notices for the first time is shaking like a leaf. "Hey man, you ok?"

"Where are we?" Greg is looking around frantically. "What is this place?"

Neal doesn't answer, for the answer would give away the whole magic thing that everyone is fighting so hard to hide. "What's the last thing you remember?" He asks tentatively, wondering how he can explain mysteriously being transported to the Enchanted Forest without giving anything away.

"Crashing my car." Greg answers. "I-I was texting, and I look down for a moment. The next thing I know, there's someone in front of my car, and everything's black. And then I woke up here."

Luckily, Emma has filled him in about Greg's arrival in town and how it'd started with him hitting Hook with his car. If this is truly what Greg remembers, it means that his memory has been affected too. Relief fills Neal as he contemplates this new piece of information, which makes explaining things a lot easier.

"Y-you were in a coma." Neal begins carefully. Everything hinges on what he says next. If Greg finds out about magic, all hell will be unleashed once a way back to Storybrooke is found. "The car crash caused brain damage and you were in a coma for a while." He can feel the weight of Tamara's stare, but he cannot stop to explain now. "While you were out, there was a…a hurricane. It completely destroyed the town. I take it that you've just woken up." He improvises.

"Ok…" Greg still looks confused. "So where are we now?"

"Where are we now?" _Good question._ "Umm…this is Storybrooke's church. The sturdiest building in town. When the hurricane struck, we were told to come here for protection. It's the only building left standing."

"How long have I been out?"

"Several…months." Neal guesstimates. "Yeah. Brain damage can do that to ya." He says sympathetically.

"Well, I seem to be ok. How soon till I can leave?"

"You can't." Neal says a little too fast. "Everything is completely destroyed or blocked by fallen debris. The roads, the buildings. It's not safe out there. We were told to stay here for the time being." He says, for it is imperative that Greg does not venture out of the castle. The moment he does, he'd realize right away that this is in fact not Storybrooke. Heart pounding, he hopes that Greg believes his rather thin cover story.

Greg nods slowly. "Ok." He says uncertainly.

"Come on." He starts to lead Greg towards David and the others. "We should talk to the sheriff about putting you in, er I meant back in, the hospital wing." He motions for Tamara to follow him, mouthing that he'd explain everything later. "The doctor should probably check you out."

* * *

"So it's agreed then?" David says, pacing around anxiously. The roar of the crowd is growing louder with every passing moment. Any second now, they will have an angry mob in front of them, demanding answers.

Regina nods, her choppy black hair bouncing up and down. "It's the only thing I can think of."

"What if it doesn't work?" David asks worriedly.

"Well, it's got to." Regina snaps petulantly, dark eyes flashing with traces of irritation and fear. "Otherwise we're screwed."

Just then, Neal comes up, Tamara's arm looped through his. He is pulling Greg, who appears to be dazed, by the arm, leading them towards David, Regina, and the others. Tamara seems to be comforting Greg, patting his arm soothingly. David does a double take at this strange sight, as does Regina. Since when do Tamara and Greg know each other? Even weirder is the fact that Neal seems to be entirely unbothered.

"We need to take Mr. Mendel back to the hospital wing." Neal begins, his eyes meeting David's, silently telling him to play along. "Tamara found him wandering around and it looks like he's woken up from his coma."

"Yes." David says slowly. "His coma."

"I think we should have the doctor check him out." Neal shoots him a warning glare. David shrugs as if to say, sorry, I was never a good liar.

"Well, good luck finding Whale in this mess." David replies.

"Here, I'll take him." Ruby offers, and she walks away, leading Greg through the crowd. As soon as they are out of earshot, David immediately turns to Neal. "All right. Explain. Coma?"

"I told him there was a hurricane and we've taken refuge at the church." Neal quickly explains.

"Hurricane?" Regina smirks. "Like he's gonna believe that."

"Looks like he did." Neal argues. "He says the last thing he remembers is the car crash. So I told him that he was in a coma and while he was out there was a hurricane."

"That's the thinnest lie I've ever heard." Regina mocks, her voice dripping with icy sarcasm. Neal glares at her and opens his mouth to argue, but David holds up his hand, effectively stopping him.

"If our plan works, that won't matter." David reminds Regina. "It's good enough for the time being. We have bigger issues at hand." He gestures at the approaching crowd. People are advancing towards them, fury etched on their faces.

Clearing his throat, he waves his arms in the air, trying to catch everyone's attention. "Everybody! Settle down!"

"My wife lost all her Storybrooke memories!" Someone calls.

"So did my kids!"

"What's going on?!"

"Regina! It's got to be her!"

"Settle down!" David shouts again. "I know that some of your loved ones have lost their memories! Believe me, I know how you feel. Emma and Mary Margaret have forgotten too. But we must not panic, for that would only make things worse."

The chaos grows again.

"How could things be any worse?" Someone grumbles.

_Well, you could discover that your grandson is back in Storybrooke._ David thinks wryly. "I get that this is frustrating. Really, I do. We are trying to do everything we can." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Regina raise her hands.

"Ready?" He mouths to Regina, who nods curtly.

David keeps talking, mostly in attempt to distract the crowd as a puff of purple emerges from Regina's raised hands. Her face is scrunched up in fierce concentration as the purple cloud shoots out, spreading around the room, reaching the corners, bathing the room in purple. Confused shouts and cries fill the room.

"What's going on?!"

"Treachery!"

"It's Regina!"

"I can't see anything!"

"Help!"

"Mom! Where are you?!"

David crosses his fingers as the room continues to fill with purple. All he can do is hope that Regina's magic is strong enough to reverse the side effects of whatever transported everyone back to the Enchanted Forest. He cannot imagine life where his daughter does not know him, or where his wife is missing 28 years worth of memories. He tries to look back to see where Mary Margaret is; the last time he saw her she was talking to Archie, who had been attempting to calm her down. But the fog is too heavy; he can barely see three feet in front of him.

Slowly, the purple clears. Things are slowly growing into focus, and people are standing up, uncovering their faces, bringing their arms down from around their heads.

Regina, is staring intently at the crowd, trying to see if her magic had any effect. They'd planned to gather everyone and distract them while Regina channeled her magic and casted a spell to try and counter whatever is causing some people's memory loss. It was the only thing they thought of that had a possibility of working. What made it harder is that the memory loss is scattered; some people are affected while others aren't. Regina wasn't sure whether casting a blanket spell over everybody would have an additional effect, but at this point they were willing to try anything.

At first, Regina didn't even know why she bothered to help David. As far as she's concerned, her only priority is to find a way back to Storybrooke. Back to Henry. She still has magic, and can easily abandon all these people and go in search of a portal all on her own. But there is this part of her, a small part that is sick of being alone. She's been alone most of her life, isolated, hated, feared. She can't bring herself to admit it, but for the first time in her life she wants to be a part of something.

David and Regina side glance at each other, not daring to say anything. Their eyes meet, and both are wondering whether or not it worked. Whether or not everyone regained their memories.

"What happened?" Someone blinks in confusion.

"What _was _that?"

Before chaos can spread again, David quickly starts to address everyone. "I'm sorry for any fear we might have caused, but we were trying to see if Regina's magic could help those who have lost their memories regain them."

Murmurs are heard throughout the crowd as understanding spreads and people begin to talk with one another, trying to see if the spell worked. David leans forward, his heart pounding with trepidation. If this has worked, he'd be the happiest person on Earth. Right now, he doesn't even care that he's in a crisis. All he wants is his family back.

A sinking feeling slowly grows inside as the crowd grows restless again. Voices are rising quickly and fights are beginning to break out. He meets Regina's eyes again, and she shakes her head.

It hadn't worked. And now everyone is angrier than before.

* * *

Like he does every morning, Gold limps over to the hospital, bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, cane in the other. The streets seem to be emptier than usual, but he thinks nothing of it as he step-thumps down the sidewalk, being careful to avoid the uneven grooves. It's fairly early, and Storybrooke isn't exactly known for being heavily populated.

It's a cloudy day, pretty typical of Storybrooke. Light mist drizzles down, slowly darkening the gray sidewalk. Gold tightens his grip on his cane, continuing his trek to the hospital. Cloudy days are _her_ favorite type of weather; even back in the Enchanted Forest, she's always marveled at how cozy a cloudy day made everything, and how it added a layer of mystery. He remembers how he's scoffed at her, mocking her, quipping that nobody liked cloudy days. A pang of longing throbs deep inside as he recalls her cheerful smile and casual shrug. How even on his worst days, she's never failed to cheer him up.

And that's why he needs her so badly. She's the one person left who cares about him. He's found his son, yes, but he knows how badly he's screwed up with Baelfire. His son wants nothing to do with him anymore. He might have come back to Storybrooke, but Gold is dead certain that it has to do with Henry and not him.

There is still a small flame of hope inside. Hope that one day, he'll walk through that doorway into her room, and her face will light up with recognition. That his love for her will be enough for her to remember. He's tried everything, from various spells to charming the chipped cup. But nothing has worked. The magic of the curse (that _he _designed, he recalls bitterly) is much stronger than he remembers.

He limps through the automatic doors of the hospital. A rush of warm air greets him, a welcome change from the chilly morning air. As he crosses towards the elevator, something feels off. Gold slowly looks around, doing a double take as he becomes conscious of the fact that the hospital lobby is weirdly empty. Usually there is some perky receptionist at the front desk, greeting him, without fail, each and every morning in her annoyingly cheerful way. But she's gone. In fact, everyone's gone.

Gold looks at the clock: 8:15 am, a time in which the hospital is normally heavily crowded. Where is everybody? He limps from room to room, banging open doors with his cane, but each and every room is empty. It's as if everyone simply…vanished.

_No_. He thinks as a thought suddenly occurs to him. He takes off at a sprint for _her _room, vaguely surprised that he's still able to travel this fast, cripple that he is, praying the whole way that he's wrong. That he'd merely hallucinated the empty lobby. He reaches her room, stopping short at the sight of the empty bed.

Anger and grief course through him as he slowly comes to the realization that _she's _gone as a result of his actions.

* * *

He is lying in what appears to be a makeshift hospital wing. In its past life, this room was probably some sort of guest room, judging by its grand décor. Red wallpaper lines the walls, and a gold chandelier swings from the center of the ceiling. He can tell that it was once beautiful, but over time it has been rendered into a mere shell of its former glory.

He turns his head to the side, holding up his wrist to his face as he glances at his watch. 2 minutes to midnight. Slowly, he swings his legs over the side of this crude thing that Ruby and Whale called a bed, and stands up, unfolding his long limbs. Being careful not to make a sound, he tiptoes out of the room and down the hall, looking from side to side, keeping an eye out for others as he approaches their meeting place.

His heart is pounding so loud it's surely audible. Squinting in the dark, he keeps his eyes peeled for her, looking for the familiar shape of her dark hair. Suddenly, a pair of hands wraps themselves around his eyes. He jumps, nearly crying out.

"Shhh…" Her voice whispers, tickling his ear. Slowly, he relaxes as he recognizes her voice and her touch. "It's just me."

"Tamara." Greg spins around, roughly pressing his lips against hers. "Don't do that again." He gasps for air.

"Sorry." She whispers, her lips on his neck, her hands running themselves down his chest. It's all he can do to stop from moaning aloud. "God, I've wanted to do this all day."

"It was so hard, pretending." Greg says, enjoying the feel of her hands.

"Even harder acting like I loved Neal." Tamara replies. She seems keen to touch as much of him as possible.

Greg stiffens at the sound of Neal, but says nothing. They have limited time together, and he does not want to spend it fighting.

"But it'll all be worth it in the end." She whispers in his ear. "And then we can finally be together."

Just then, they hear a creak, followed by light footsteps coming down the hall. Greg and Tamara reluctantly break apart. Neither of them want to leave, but it is imperative they are not caught. They enjoy one last, lingering kiss before parting ways. Tamara looks back one last time. The lust on her face is gone, replaced by a mask of seriousness.

"Tomorrow, we commence stage 1."

**Author's note: Ooohh, what do you think that means? Review to find out! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Hey y'all! SO sorry for the long wait! Was super busy with schoolwork, Disneyland trip, prom, and wrapping up stuff before graduation next wk! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. You have no idea how much it means to me. **

Chapter 5

His heart is filled with trepidation as he shoulders his backpack and steps out into the cool, foggy morning. Pretty typical of Storybrooke, yet Henry feels goose bumps crop up on his skin, and he hugs his sweater closer to himself, savoring the bits of warmth inside the thin cotton material. Everything about the morning seems ominous as he sets down the familiar path to school. Even the familiar gray clouds that fill up the sky every morning appear more threatening than usual.

As Henry walks down the sidewalk, he becomes gradually aware of the odd silence. It is so quiet he can hear his every breath and footstep. The shuffling of his sweater as he swings his arms. The bump of his backpack against his body. The jingle of the zippers on his bag. The whistle of the wind in the trees. The gentle scraping of his heels against the gray pavement.

The sounds of his shoes against the sidewalk bring back a dizzying memory. He remembers himself about two years ago. He'd been living with Regina, already on the search for his birth mother. Regina had scolded him for scuffing the bottom of his sneakers, angrily saying that she didn't want him to ruin the shoes she'd spent so much money on. Henry remembers arguing back, the quick snap of anger as he countered that it was just a pair shoes, questioned why she was always so controlling. It was what made him finally start searching for his birth mother.

All throughout his life, he'd known that he was adopted, for Regina never hesitated to tell him. She'd always added that he was special because she chose him and that he would always be loved, that it didn't matter that his birth parents hadn't wanted him.

Henry never believed that story. He could never fathom that his parents hadn't wanted him. No, there had to be an explanation. And that was the beginning of his mistrust of Regina. There was just something about the forced way she'd said that, with a stiff demeanor, that made him start to doubt her. And then Mary Margaret had given him that book of fairy tales, and he'd discovered the truth. The truth that his adoptive mother was evil. That she quite possibly adopted him just to keep an eye on her mortal enemies' descendants.

He'd agonized whether over or not to find his birth mother. What if Regina was right, and she didn't love him? But curiosity got the better of him.

As much as he hates to admit it though, there _is _a small part of him that holds a soft spot for Regina. She's been his mother for so long, and despite all the lies, he cannot deny that she _has _mostly been a good mother to him. She'd always tried to give him what he wanted and he knows that she cares about him, that she does love him; she just has a weird way of showing it.

And that's what makes it all so confusing. His love for Regina just complicates everything. He knows that his biological family doesn't want anything to do with Regina, and he completely understands that. After all, she did try to kill them numerous times. And there is so much bad blood between his grandmother and Regina. Many times, Henry almost wished that he could be just like the rest of his biological family, that he could easily forget about all the good that he knows Regina has in her. That he can just let it go. Let her go.

But it's not possible. He has always been one to see the good in people. And as messy as everything is, he cannot make himself hate Regina.

The streets are unusually empty. Completely devoid of people. It is almost as if Storybrooke is a ghost town, and he is the only one in it. For a moment, he briefly wonders if it's Saturday, but then he remembers that even on the weekends, everyone is out and about. Yet Henry continues to convince himself that it's just because it's still early. _Everyone will be at school _he thinks firmly. _I have no reason to worry. _

Henry reaches the school in half as much time as it usually takes. He looks around the deserted schoolyard, normally filled with the sounds of screaming children, swinging on the monkey bars, pumping their legs on the swings to reach the sky, trying to make the most out of the remaining minutes before school begins; the chorus of goodbyes from parents as they drop off their kids; the occasional cry of surprise as someone discovers they've left their homework behind. Those are the sounds that Henry associates with his school, the sounds that let him know he's near one of his favorite places.

A finger of doubt slips down his spine as he takes in his empty surroundings. What if something bad really did happen? The streets were empty, and now the school. There is absolutely no logical explanation why everyone is gone.

But Henry maintains that maybe he's just late. In the back of his mind, he registers that there really is something wrong, but he pushes it down. _I'm just late. _Henry reasons. _That's why nobody's here. My watch must've stopped, and they didn't want to wake me up. When I walk in, everyone's gonna be in class. _

He walks inside the school, pushing open the heavy wooden doors that are normally held open by a door stop at this time. Again, he tells himself that the doors are closed because he's late. Because the doors are always closed after the first bell rings. He's merely late, nothing more.

The hallways are empty, lifeless. Henry strides through, listening to the shuffle of his shoes against the scuffed floors. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Normally the hallways are filled with the hustle and bustle of his classmates and he wouldn't be able to hear his shoes. But today all is eerily silent.

_Maybe everyone's just taking a test._ He thinks to himself. _That's why it's all quiet._ As he passes the closed door of a kindergarten class that usually emits squeals and shouts from behind the thin walls, he thinks, _it's just naptime for them. That's why I don't hear anything._

Henry reaches his classroom a few moments later. He can feel his heart pounding, and his palms are sweaty. He realizes that everything hinges on this next moment. When he opens that door, if all his classmates peer at him curiously and Mary Margaret scolds him for being late, he will know all is normal. But if it's empty….

Mentally, Henry steels himself for his grandmother's reprimand; Snow White has never been one for tardiness. _I'm sorry. _He would begin. _My alarm clock didn't go off today. _Of course, he wouldn't blame his family for forgetting about him.

Maybe during dinner tonight, he'll complain about being left behind. _Yes, I'm going to see them for dinner tonight. We're gonna eat some more of grandma's cooking. Everything's fine. I'm just overreacting. When I open this door, I'll be in trouble for being late. Everyone will stare at me. _

Carefully, Henry pushes open the heavy wooden door. His eyes are squeezed shut. He braces himself for the inevitable questioning.

Slowly, he opens his eyes to see that the classroom is…

Empty.

* * *

Henry runs from store to store, dashing quickly down the empty sidewalk far faster than he could've ever imagined he could. He can hear the jingle jangle of the zippers on his backpack as his legs pump up and down. His backpack is rocking up and down, and he can feel one shoelace untied, but he does not stop.

_No. No, no, no, no, NO! _Those are the words coursing through his mind. His eyes had just deceived him. There is no way Storybrooke's empty. No. There's just a...a field trip! It's a school holiday! Anything!

But that doesn't account for why his family is gone. Why the streets are so empty. Why, as he dashes into Granny's, out of breath, the normally full diner is devoid of life.

His mind comes up with a thousand possibilities. A pandemic. Some sort of parade on Main Street. Never mind the fact that he was just on Main Street, and it was just as empty as everything else. A surprise party? It doesn't matter that his birthday just passed. There has to be some explanation.

Henry runs quickly from store to store, knocking on doors and peeking in windows. The bakery. Empty. Archie's. Empty. The animal shelter, the mechanic's, and even Mr. Gold's. Empty, empty, and empty.

He cannot deny it any longer. Everyone is gone, save for him. He is completely alone.

* * *

He has a thought. What if this some sort of punishment? For still loving Regina despite all the horrors? Maybe everyone decided they'd had enough of him and just left. But that doesn't really make sense. As angry as his family might get, they wouldn't just ditch him like that.

And then he realizes. What if this is all Regina's doing? He knows that she's wanted him to herself for some time. What if she made everyone disappear?

Without another thought, he leaps up off the curb and starts running down the street towards Regina's house. He doesn't stop to dwell on the fact that if his theory is true, Regina would've come to find him already. She wouldn't just leave him alone and scared.

The trees and sidewalk are nothing but blurs as he sets off for his old house, his feet pounding hard on the sidewalk. Although he's mad that Regina made everyone, especially his family, disappear, part of him is relieved. Relieved that at least he's not alone. Maybe, when he gets to Regina's, he'll reason with her. Try to get her to bring everyone back. It's not fair to him to lose his biological family. He decides that he'll work out a schedule to spend time with both families. Though she'll be angry, he knows that she'll do anything for him. He'll get her to agree.

The path is achingly familiar. He can't remember the last time he's been here. He feels another guilty pang as he approaches his old house. No wonder Regina made everybody disappear. She's really missed him, and he hasn't done anything to make it easier. Sure, she's the Evil Queen. But she loves him. Really, truly loves him. And she _did_ help bring Emma and Mary Margaret back from the Enchanted Forest. She'd been trying to redeem himself, for _him, _and he just continued to ignore her.

He does deserve this, for the way he's treated his adoptive mother. So he can't exactly be angry with Regina. She always has the most extreme ways of showing her love for him. So what if she's a little possessive? She has every right to be.

Henry steps up to the white house and presses his finger to the doorbell. He hears it reverberate throughout the large house. He waits for the sounds of Regina's heels approach the door, his heart pounding with trepidation.

There is no answer. He rings the doorbell, once, twice, three times more, pressing his ear against the door, keeping his ears peeled for any signs of his mother. Nothing. All is silent, save for his breathing and the chirp of the birds in the background.

"Hello? Mom?" Henry calls, pounding on the door. "It's me!"

Nothing.

_That's weird._ Henry thinks. _What if…_ He doesn't let himself finish that thought. Because he doesn't want to think about where it leads.

Just then, Henry remembers that Regina's always left a spare key under the rock by the door. Wondering if it's still there, Henry kneels down and lifts up the heavy stone. He is greeted by the silver key. Lifting it to the door with a shaky hand, he turns the knock and steps inside his old house.

"Hello?" Henry calls again, his voice echoing in the vast marble entryway. "Is anybody there? Mom?"

There is no answer.

He reasons with himself that maybe Regina's still asleep, though she's always been an early riser. With a pang, he remembers that she's always woken up early, every day without fail, just to make him a hot breakfast.

He tiptoes around, not wanting to wake her up. The gleaming kitchen, filled with top of the line appliances, a far cry from Mary Margaret's rustic kitchen, has remained the same since the last time he was here. Same bowl of apples on the kitchen island. Even the fridge is still stocked with his favorite orange juice, the expiration date set for next week, as if she's always ready for him.

He peeks into the bathroom, the living room, and the family room. All empty and relatively unchanged. Henry continues upstairs. He sees that his door is halfway closed, and he cannot help but go inside. Everything is just as he left it, except the bed is made. He's forgotten how much he's loved this room, everything tailored to his liking. At Mary Margaret's he sleeps in what used to be his grandma's office. Aside from the picture on the wall, he has no personal artifacts there.

Next stop, Regina's room. Her door is closed, just as she leaves it every night. Tentatively, he knocks on the door, not really wanting to wake her up.

"Mom?" He whispers. No reply. "Hello?" He tries again, this time a little louder.

He waits for the telltale squeak of the bed that he'd hear as she got up. Nothing. No shuffle of footsteps, rustle of blankets, or yank of her robe from its hook on the door. Absolutely nothing.

Cautiously, he turns the doorknob and steps into his mother's bedroom. His heart fills with a sickening dread as he takes in the empty room before him. She's not sleeping in the big bed, a bed that he used to love to jump on. A bed that, on a handful of occasions, Regina actually let him jump on.

Maybe she's gone to find him. Maybe she thought he'd freak out over everyone's disappearance and is waiting for him back at Mary Margaret's. It's a pretty farfetched possibility, but at this point he is willing to believe anything. Weirdly enough, the bed isn't made. Instead, it looks just as though it's sleeper up and disappeared during the night. He knows Regina well enough to know that she always makes her bed every morning. But maybe she neglected to do it in her haste to find him.

On his way out of her room, he nearly trips over something. Regina's phone, plugged into its charger in the outlet by the door, just like she leaves it every night. She would never leave without her phone. Maybe she'd leave her bed unmade, but he knows with an absolute certainty that she would never leave her phone behind.

He was wrong. Regina's not here. Everyone is really, truly gone.

* * *

Alone. He's alone. Everyone is gone. He's the last person left in Storybrooke. Might as well be the whole world, since to him Storybrooke is his whole world.

How could this happen? Why would everyone just leave him? He has a strong feeling that everyone disappeared against their will. There is no way his family would just ditch him. Maybe they'd accidentally forget about him, _Home Alone _style, but an entire town?

There has to be some sort of magic at play. But the only people he can think of who posses magic are Regina, Gold, and the Blue Fairy. And they're all gone.

He shivers, hugging his sweater tighter to himself. Without his family, the apartment feels like a freezer. There are a thousand emotions coursing through him. Why did this happen? It wasn't like he had this huge blowout fight with his family and wished for everyone to disappear. As far as knew, yesterday had been a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He'd gone to school, come home, done his homework, ate dinner, and went to bed.

Suddenly, without warning, Henry grabs the nearest object and flings it against the wall. The vase shatters into a thousand pieces, the pathetic sight an epitome of what he is feeling. And then he is hurling everything within reach against the wall, smashing glasses, breaking pencils, ripping up papers, emptying bottles. He tears sheets off beds, rips pillows in half, filling the air with whirling feathers, knocks pictures off shelves. Books are torn and curtains are ripped from their windows. The floor becomes littered with the effects of his rage, grief, and confusion.

All the while, the words why and how are echoing throughout his mind. Every question is punctuated with yet another crash or shatter. _Why _did everyone disappear? _How _could this happen? _Why _was he left behind? He feels broken, hollow. He could feel a scream building up in his throat but he can't let it out. Nothing feels right and he doesn't know what to do anymore.

Upstairs, nothing is left unharmed. He stomps into his room, destroying everything in sight. Ripping up schoolwork and dirtying his sheets with angry footprints.

And then, he sees the photo and stops short. The photo above his wall. Him, Emma, Mary Margaret, and David. His mother, grandmother, and grandfather. His family. Their smiling faces grin down at him, seemingly mocking him, reminding of him of everything he desires. A physical reminder of his pain. He laughs ruefully. So much for his belief that the picture would keep things from going bad.

He is about to rip that photo into a million pieces but cannot bring himself to do so. Slowly, Henry sinks down to the floor, the first glistening tear already making its way down his cheek, and cries.

**Author's note: Plz review! I promise I'll try to update ASAP. Just remember...more reviews=faster update :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Again, sorry for the long wait. End of the year stuff takes up a lot of time. Finally done w high school!**

Chapter 6

Emma jolts awake, her shoulder colliding painfully with the cold stone floor. She is lying on her side, the cold from the floor seeping in through her thin sweatshirt, something she's worn to bed every night for nearly ten years, a threadbare thing that brings back many painful memories, but nevertheless a garment that she can't bring herself to give away.

Her cheek is wet. Tentatively, she brings her hand up to her face, rubbing gently, and then into her line of vision, fully expecting to see it covered in blood. But there is nothing. She must've been crying in her sleep. Again.

Emma cannot shake the strange feeling that someone she cares about is in pain. That the tears are unrelated to some random dream about her awful past. She feels a deep sadness, a sadness that is seeping in her bones. Loneliness, fear, and abandonment. Three emotions that are pulsing through her, yet there is no reason why they should. She feels someone out there, calling out for her, begging for her to return. Someone that she yearns to alleviate the pain of, to take in her arms and embrace tightly. To protect. This physically pains her. But that is just ridiculous. Who in the world does she care about? And more importantly, who in the world cares about her?

Rubbing her tender shoulder, she sits up slowly, taking in her surroundings. Where in the hell is she? The first thing she notices is the light. The light seeping in from the skylights overhead. Since when does her room have skylights? She has never been very picky about sleep, having slept in so many different places throughout the course of her life. But the one thing she has always insisted on is sleeping in a completely dark room. Whether it was creating a fort with blankets or a makeshift blindfold, Emma has never been able to sleep with light present.

Therefore, the light that is currently burning her retinas is alerting her to the fact that she is not safe in her own bed. Well, that and the stone floor that's digging into her spine. She shifts, wincing at her sore ass, wishing that her sleep shorts weren't so thin. Or short.

Emma looks around, squinting in the harsh morning sun. She is in what appears to be a guest room. It might've been grandiose once, but time has worn it down. The curtains are covered with dust, and the four poster bed, with its velvet duvet, is split down the middle by a fallen tree. Soot and other debris litter the marble floor.

Right. She is in what she has dubbed Bizzaro World. The place that looks like something straight out of a fairytale. A storybook. So it hadn't been a dream. Emma briefly remembers stumbling around for hours, lost. After that tall blond guy, the one that everyone called…Donald, or was it David, failed so miserably at his speech, the nun Neal told to keep an eye on her turned away to calm the angered crowd, and Emma had seized that as a chance to run. To clear her head, to get some air, to regroup. To just be alone. The day's events had been nothing short of tumultuous, with Neal's reappearance, this strange place, and all the unfamiliar people who kept acting as though they knew her, as though she should know them. Heavy with exhaustion and confusion, she'd collapsed here and fallen asleep, while praying that when she woke up, she'd be home in her bed.

She reaches for the hair tie she always keeps around her wrist and gathers her blonde locks into a sloppy knot. Her stomach growls. The need for food overshadows her desire to stay hidden in this room. Shivering in the cold morning (at least she thinks its morning) air, she tiptoes out of the room and into what appears to be a hallway.

The hallway is long, the cavernous ceiling held up by gray stone poles. Poles that are badly cracked in many places, broken windows, debris everywhere. Emma can tell that this place was once beautiful, but not anymore. She is grateful for her socks as she continues down the hall, as the floor is rather cold. There is obviously no heating in this place. In fact, she doesn't remember seeing any sign of electricity or technology, for that matter, anywhere. Granted, she was probably way too drunk to remember anything, but as she walks down the hall, swiveling her head from side to side, the only sources of light are lanterns. Or rather…were, for the lanterns are now useless, for the glass is broke. She attributes this to whatever damaged the rest of this place. Maybe the storm or earthquake or whatever it was destroyed everything. But wouldn't there be some sign of technology, albeit broken? As she walks down the hallway, she sees no cell phones, iPods, stereos, or TVs. Nothing.

It is eerily silent, a far cry from the chaos of yesterday. Emma wonders where everyone else went. Maybe there's just no one in her wing of this place, as she can tell that this building is huge. As she continues down the hall, she begins to hear a growing roar. A roar that is unmistakably the many voices of a crowd. She follows the voices, motivated by her growling stomach. The last thing she wants is to be near people, especially those people again, but she has no choice. She needs to figure out a way out of this place and that cannot be done on an empty stomach.

_Ok, here's the plan, Emma._ She tells herself. _I'll just go in, grab some food, and get out. They have to have something, right? _

The sounds of the growing voices lead her to the same hall as yesterday. Emma flattens herself against the wall and peeks out. The room looks better, for it seems as though some of the debris has been cleared away. There is a long table, covered with platters of food. People are milling around, occasionally grabbing food from the table. Makeshift tents are set up around the room, and it appears as though some people (Emma recognizes the brunette dressed in red from yesterday) are ordering others around. Though there is still a general undercurrent of chaos and frustration in the crowd, it is better than yesterday. Maybe that David guy got everyone to calm down.

Looking from side to side, Emma determines that her path is clear. No one is looking her way. Without another thought, she sprints from her hiding place, her eyes fixed on that table. She is faced by the weirdest looking assortment of food she's ever seen. There are heaping plates of what appears to be some sort of…meat? She cautiously sniffs it, and recoils in horror. It does not smell like chicken, or pork, or beef, or even lamb. She has no idea what this is. Better not try it. Emma continues down the table. The majority of the food is unrecognizable.

She pokes at some of the meat, debating whether or not to take it. Food is food, after all. And she has been standing here long enough, out in the open, at the risk of being seen.

Bread. She recognizes a loaf of bread. Though it is a strange color, bread is bread. With a sigh of relief, Emma heaps as much bread as she can into her arms, stuffing into the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt, up her sleeves, and wherever she has space. Spotting bunches of grapes sitting on a different plate, she takes some of that too. And several round colored objects that she thinks are similar to peaches. This is no doubt one of the strangest meals she's ever seen, but her growling stomach prevents her from questioning too much.

Satisfied with the amount of food she's procured, Emma turns to go, but runs straight into someone. The loaves of bread, grapes, and peaches tumble from her arms, thumping on the ground. Great. She immediately bends down and starts collecting her food, wanting nothing more than to get out of here as fast as she can. Whoever it is she bumped into begins to help her. They both straighten up, and he hands her back her food. She is aware of how ridiculous she looks, with this many loaves of bread.

"Thanks." She says awkwardly, hoping to cut him off before he says anything.

She looks up and straight into the eyes of that guy. David.

* * *

"Emma." He stutters. "I-it's you." He reaches out like he is about to hug her, but Emma immediately steps away.

"How do you know my name?" She cannot help but snap. There is something about this guy that emanates a creepy vibe. The way that he leans protectively into her. The searching way he stares at her with longing, like he's trying to memorize her face. Is there a history between them? Her gut is telling her no, that he is a pervy freak, but something about him draws her to him.

"Oh, I…um." He is obviously grasping for words as he looks down. Emma crosses her arms and levels him with a stare. It is the same stare that has helped her so much with her job as a bail bondswoman. An intimidating stare that sends most creeps running. And it works, for David backs away a bit.

"I heard someone say it." He says finally, but Emma can tell he is lying. Her lie detecting ability has always been foolproof.

"Righttttt". Emma draws the word out, disbelief oozing as she rolls her eyes. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have plenty of things to do." She tries to edge around him, but he blocks her path.

"Wait." David says. "I know this may sound weird, but…do you remember me?"

"No." Emma answers immediately. "Why would I? I've never seen you before in my life." She turns to go again, but yet again he is in her way. She stomps her foot in frustration. "Would you move so I can get past?" Emma knows that she is being extremely rude, but cannot help it. Rudeness is her first line of defense against creeps.

This guy's earnestness and eagerness strikes her as someone that she can trust, but she has dealt with enough two faced people in her life to know that nothing is as it seems. No matter how trustworthy someone may seem, they may end up betraying her. Emma has learned this the hard way, so she prefers to keep her distance.

"Please." David stops her with a hand on her arm. "J-just humor me. Do I look familiar to you at all?"

Emma softens. She stares at him and tries to remember. She really does. David seems really desperate, and she can relate. The desperation written on his face is something that she's experienced countless times. She tries to recall any place she could've seen this man. Bars, restaurants, the subway, work, the streets. But the longer she stares at his face, his features blurring together as she nearly goes cross eyed, she finds that she really, truly does not know who this guy is. There is a vague, fleeting memory of protectiveness, but as fast as it appeared, it is gone.

"Sorry." She whispers. "I have no idea who you are."

David's face falls, and Emma can see the beginnings of tears brimming in his eyes. The color is startlingly familiar, a color that she is sure she sees every day, but she cannot place it.

"It's fine." He tries to smile. "I-I'm sorry to have disturbed you." He looks like he is about to say something, like he is about to reach out and touch her, but he stops himself.

"I'm sorry." Emma repeats, shooting him a hopeful smile. Suddenly, she has this feeling that she can trust this man. That he is a good person. Which is crazy, since she does not know him. "I hope you find…whatever it is you're looking for." As she walks away, her loaves of bread tucked in her arms, she looks back. He is standing there, a look of broken despair on his face. A pang of sadness crosses her, though she cannot imagine why.

**Author's note: What did y'all think? Can I ask for 10 reviews? 10 reviews and I'll update by next Mon! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Like I promised, here's a new ch. Thank you so much for all the reviews. You have no idea how happy they make me. Seriously.**

Chapter 7

_The door jingles as she pushes it open, a thick pink winter jacket slung over her arm. Normally she would've worn it, but her red dress was just too pretty to cover up. A blonde woman follows her. They open the door of the nondescript diner and face a smiling crowd, who roars in delight at their entrance. Everybody is there. David, Ruby, Granny, Leroy and the other dwarves, Archie, and a small boy who looks very familiar. _

_Someone hands her and the blonde mugs of a strange yellowish substance, a drink that has a very strong alcoholic smell. _

"_To Mary Margaret and Emma!" David calls, raising his mug. Everyone follows suit. _

A loud crash wakes Snow White from her deep slumber and dream. Her eyes fly open. She is lying in her bed in the huge, ornate bedroom that she loves so much. That she's spent so much time decorating and perfecting. Thankfully, it has been left relatively unharmed by the earthquake that Charming said ruined most of the castle and sent everyone in the kingdom here as refugees. Every time she looked at the horrible, debris filled, burned down state of her home, it brings tears to her eyes. How could an earthquake do so much damage?

Snow reaches up to brush through her long black hair, which tends to tangle up every night, but her hands hit air. _Right._ A sinking feeling of disappointment spreads through her again. She's forgotten that her hair had been chopped off as a result of a fire accident caused by the earthquake. Her hair has been something she's taken for granted, something that has always been there. And now that it's gone…she hadn't realized how much she's loved it.

She wishes she could go back to sleep for various reasons. Her dream has left her vaguely unsettled. It felt so…so _real._ As if it wasn't a dream, but a memory. Everyone she knew was there. She'd known exactly what to do and where to go. Like she'd lived there, which was completely ridiculous, since she'd never been to that place before. A…diner? That was what her dream self had called it. What _was_ a diner? Her dream had taken place in such a weird place, somewhere she'd never been before. It'd looked so different from any place she'd ever seen before. Yet she'd known exactly where to go.

In her dream, everyone had looked so different. Like an odd version of themselves, with different haircuts and strange clothing. Since when has Red worn pants? Then again, since when have any of the women worn pants? The weird thing was, Snow doesn't remember much from yesterday's tumultuous events, but she does recall that everybody in her dream looked exactly like everybody she'd seen the day before, from the same odd styled clothing to their haircuts. It was like an alternate universe.

Why had she thought of herself as Mary Margaret in her dream? She hadn't used that name since her days with Red, before Red found out she was the wolf. Speaking of Red, why had she thought of her best friend as Ruby? Was that her nickname or something? But as far as Snow remembers, her friend has always been Red.

And then there was that blonde. Snow had felt a real connection to that woman. Like she was family or something, when in fact Snow has never seen her before. In her dream, there was something very special about the blonde, but Snow cannot remember. Something about her name that struck a deep chord inside her…what was it again?

Before Snow has the chance to obsess over this, the door flies open. She swivels her head to the left, towards the door. Due to the earthquake, all the lanterns and candle holders on the wall had been destroyed, leaving the castle flooded in darkness, save for light coming in from cracked windows and holes created by fallen trees. A figure comes into the room, shrouded in darkness.

"Crap, wrong room." The person says. Their voice is strikingly familiar, yet Snow cannot place it. "Sorry."

"Wait." Snow sits up in bed. "Who's there?"

"No one." The person says. "Sorry." They say again.

Snow stumbles out of bed, feeling slightly off balance. Her body hasn't felt this light in months; now with the absence of her long black locks and her pregnant stomach, she feels as though she's trapped in someone else's body. Like she has an entirely different identity. She doesn't know why, but she feels like she has to talk to this person.

"Hello?" She calls out. Through the darkness, Snow can see that the figure is slim, and has long blonde hair. She is carrying what appears to be armfuls of bread. The woman is wearing the strangest assortment of clothing Snow has ever seen.

"Wait. I just want to talk to you." Snow stops her with a hand on her arm. She can feel an electric tingle travel up her arm as her hand touches the woman's shoulder. She has an odd sense of déjà vu, as though she's done this before. The woman shudders beneath her touch but turns to face her.

"Look, I just got lost, ok? This place is huge. But I'm not stupid. I can see that this isn't my room. Well I mean it's not exactly my room, but yeah. I'll just leave, ok?" The woman rambles.

_That face. The round face, framed by light blonde hair. The familiar greenish eyes that look startlingly like Charming's. The chin that, for some odd reason, mirrors her own. _Snow just stares at this woman, taking in her features, eyes wide and jaw in a round O. It's the woman from her dream.

"What?" The woman frowns. She looks over her shoulder. "What?" She asks again, folding her arms over her chest and tilting her head to the side, raising an eyebrow. It's a pose that is so familiar, though Snow cannot place it. Maybe this was in her dream?

"I-it's you." Snow says in awe.

"Not again." The woman groans. "I don't know you, ok? I'm sorry." She turns to go, but Snow stops her again.

"N-no. I don't know you either. It's just that…I've seen you before somewhere. You were in my dream!"

"_What?" _The blonde gasps. She places her hands on her hips. "Ok, now I'm getting seriously creeped out. You had a dream about me? I don't even know you!"

"It's not what it sounds like." Snow says quickly. She doesn't know why, but she feels like she knows this blonde. That she's used to her sarcasm. "In my dream, I was going to this party. A-and you were with me."

The woman gapes at her. "That's just weird." She starts backing away, a peeved expression on her face.

"Wait!" Snow calls desperately. "What's your name?"

"_What?"_

"Your name. I know this sounds weird, but your name is somehow connected to me. I need to know what it is." She urges. "Please."

"What the hell's wrong with you? I don't know you. I've never seen you before in my life. So what makes you think I'm gonna tell you my name." The woman snaps, her voice low and dangerous. She is crouched in a defensive position, as if she is posed to attack at any moment.

"Emma?" A voice calls from behind. It's Charming. He is carrying a basket full of food, a confused expression on his handsome face. "What're you doing here? Is everything ok?" His voice is full of concern as he takes in the scene before him.

"Just got lost." Emma says absently, her eyes flickering to Snow's trembling face. "And now I'm leaving."

_Emma_. That's her name. Emma. But…but…that's her daughter's name. Is this woman somehow connected to her daughter? Does she know more than she's letting on? What are the chances that she has the same name as her dead, unborn daughter? Suddenly, Snow has to know. Has to know what this woman knows. She has to know something. There's no way they can share the same name without there being some sort of connection. "No!" Suddenly, Snow lunges straight at the blonde. "You can't leave!" Her hands clamp desperately onto Emma's arms, shaking her hard. Loaves of bread rain down around them, thumping on the ground. "Tell me what you know!"

"Get off me!" Emma screams, struggling violently in her tight grip. She claws at the hands clamped around her arms. "What the hell?!" Snow's face is mere inches from Emma's as she screams and cries. Emma attempts to free herself, but Snow is much stronger.

"Snow!" Charming roars, tugging on his wife's arms. "What are you doing? Let her go!"

"NO!" Snow begins to sob. "I need to know! I have to know what happened! My daughter's dead! What do you know?!"

"Let her go!" Charming tugs at her arms. "You can't assume she knows something just because she has the same name! She doesn't know anything!"

Emma's thoughts are whirling as she takes in what the man is saying. Doesn't know anything? Same name? What in the hell is he talking about? But she doesn't take the time to obsess over this, for her priority is to get away from this crazy woman. The look in this woman's eyes is exactly the same as the look Emma has seen in the eyes of many screaming people in insane asylums. The woman looks like a trapped, cornered, desperate animal. Someone that will do anything.

Emma thrashes wildly, kicking her legs. Her socked feet make contact with someone's body, but she doesn't know whether or not she's hit herself, David, or the crazy lady. Her nails dig into the black haired woman's, but the woman doesn't take any notice as she continues to scream in her face.

"I don't know anything about your daughter!" Emma cries. "Let me go! I have no idea what you're talking about!'

With some effort, Charming and Emma manage to pry Snow off. Manage to free Emma from the screaming, thrashing mess.

"Go!" Charming calls. His arms are around his wife's waist as he visibly struggles to restrain her. Stop her from jumping straight at Emma again.

Emma doesn't need to be told twice; she takes one look at Snow and sprints out of there, her loaves of bread abandoned on the ground.

"NO!" Snow shrieks. "COME BACK!" She reaches a hand out as if she intends to grab onto, to hang onto Emma, to prevent her from leaving.

But Emma is already gone.

* * *

Snow collapses on the ground, a shaking, screaming, writhing mess. The word Emma rings continuously through her mind as her entire body is wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

_Emma. _

She's never even had the chance to meet her. To hold her baby girl in her arms. To sing her to sleep. To just _see _the wonderful creation that she'd fought so hard to protect, from the very first day she found out she was pregnant.

_Emma._

Waves of grief wash repeatedly over her as sobs rise in her throat. Her breathing hitches as she lets out a tortured wailing sound. She feels as though her chest has cracked open, and she flops over on her side, utterly consumed by her pain. Snow feels Charming smoothing down her hair, attempting to calm her down. But she is inconsolable. After a while, Charming just gives up. He just holds her as her body is wracked with sobs. Beneath hard, choking sobs, he can hear his wife repeating their daughter's name over and over again.

And David begins to cry too. For an entirely different reason than Snow, but tears rush down his cheeks nonetheless. He cries for the daughter that has forgotten him. The daughter that he never really got to know. The daughter that looked straight into his eyes like a stranger. The daughter that might never call him Dad.

* * *

In a million years, David would've never imagined himself teaming up with Regina. They've been mortal enemies for so long. But recent circumstances have drastically changed their relationship; instead of adversaries, they have become a team. De facto leaders, united against a difficult situation.

After tucking Mary Margaret into bed and employing Ruby to keep an eye on her, he heads toward the conference room, where he's going to meet Regina and the dwarves to discuss castle repairs. They'd found out quickly that Regina's magic was unpredictable, due to the aftermaths of being mysteriously transported back to the Enchanted Forest. They'd tried to use that to conjure up food, but it had failed; instead, a flock of birds had been conjured up. Luckily, Granny and her crossbow fixed that problem. As a result, they couldn't rely on Regina to fix the castle.

He walks down the hall, keeping his head ducked down. He cannot bear to look at the grand palace that was once his home. When the curse first hit, he'd been unconscious, unable to see its effects. And now, now that he's back, he is able to fully see the aftermaths of the curse that destroyed his home and splintered his family and the lives of everyone else for nearly 30 years. Many parts of the castle are unsafe, leaving many of Storybrooke's residents camped out in any available space they can find: hallways, the courtyard, and the large conference room. He is just lucky that their old bedroom had been relatively untouched.

David doesn't even want to think about the mess that is family is left in. His wife is mentally unstable, his daughter has completely forgotten about her family, and his grandson is trapped in a different universe. Hearing Mary Margaret's sobs had broken his heart; in that moment, all he'd wanted was to alleviate some of her pain, and the fact that he couldn't do so nearly killed him. And being so close to Emma, yet unable to hug her or tell her that he loved her was one of the worst moments of his life.

Tears begin making their way down his face again, blurring his vision, and he reaches up to wipe them away with his sleeve. He cannot face everyone like this; no matter how devastated he is, it is imperative that he hide it, for he needs to project the image of a strong, capable leader. Or else chaos will break out again. He takes a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, to push those thoughts to the back of his mind, for he is near the conference room; he can hear the voices of Regina and the dwarves. The dwarves sound as though they are loudly arguing. For some reason, he thinks he can hear the voice of Tamara. Sounds as though she's discussing something with Regina. What would she be doing in there? Neal was in an entirely different wing of the castle.

"Ooff!" He's bumped into someone.

"Sorry." The person says. It's that stranger, Greg. He looks up at David. For a second, David can see a flash of worry in the other man's eyes. Like he was afraid of getting caught or something. David shakes his head. It's probably just the lack of sleep talking.

"No, I'm sorry." David says. "Where you headed?" He asks.

"Oh, uh…" Greg stammers. "Trying to find a bathroom."

David laughs. "No bathrooms here, sorry. It's a bit old fashioned."

"Right." Greg nods.

"You should really go back to the hospital wing." David advises, mainly in an attempt to get rid of him. He doesn't need this stranger overhearing conversations about magic.

"Right." Greg says again. But he makes no movement to go anywhere.

"It's that way." David points over his shoulder. "Take a left at the end of the hall."

"Ok."

David looks back on his way into the conference room. Greg is still standing there, just watching him.

"That way." David repeats. Greg nods and goes, casting an odd look back that David can't read. David makes sure Greg is gone before going inside the conference room.

As he walks away, David remembers that Greg hadn't appeared to be on his way somewhere. It'd looked like he was flattened against the wall, positioned just outside the conference room, like he was trying to eavesdrop on something.

Or maybe somebody.

* * *

Emma groans and shifts in her makeshift bed, which is really just a pile of old curtains she'd found in the corner of the room. She rubs her sore back and hugs her sweatshirt closer to her body in an effort to create more warmth. She has no idea what time it is, just that it's the middle of the night, for the castle is nearly silent. Through the huge hole in the wall, she can see the bright moon, casting a dim light over the room.

She is unable to sleep, and it's not just due to the hard ass floor. Every time she closes her eyes, all she can she is the tear stricken face of the dark haired lady. Thanks to the silence of the night, all Emma can hear is the woman's screams, echoing in her head over and over.

What was her name? She doesn't even know. All she knows about this woman is that she lost her daughter. The daughter who's also named Emma. And apparently, just because Emma and that woman's dead daughter share the same name, that must mean that Emma is somehow responsible for the baby's death, that Emma is hiding something about a baby she'd never even met.

Emma snorts at this ridiculous thought. It is apparent that this woman is devastated by the loss of her daughter. Emma sympathizes with that woman, she really does. She knows firsthand what it's like to lose your child, though her child hadn't died. But it is quite ridiculous to assume that a completely random stranger knows something about your baby's death. To lunge at them and scream in their face.

Emma didn't know what she would've done, what she would've been forced to do, if David hadn't pulled that woman off her. David. He was so…odd. It'd looked like he was visibly struggling to stop himself from reaching out and touching her or something. Which is completely creepy, for they didn't even know each other. But he acted like he'd known her for a long time.

She doesn't know why, but the sad look he'd given her nearly broke her heart. There was absolutely no reason why; she'd never seen that man before. He was just one of the many strange faces in a sea of thousands in this weird place.

But she feels such a strong connection to him. Hell, to both of them. David and his crazy wife. They were obviously going through some hard times. Probably PTSD, thanks to that freak earthquake that'd hit this place. Those two scared her. One was obviously losing it and the other acted like he was…like he was…like he was her father or something!

The longer she lay here, the more unsettled Emma feels. She was so good at adapting, so good at not letting people get under her skin. And yet those two were leaving her more uncomfortable than she'd felt in years.

She had to get out of here.

* * *

Emma tiptoes to the room in which she'd found food earlier, looking from side to side. She feels like she's being watched. She reminds herself that it's the middle of the night, that everyone is asleep.

Thankfully, the long table with the food is still there. Though most of the food had been taken, Emma manages to find several loaves of bread, albeit a little squashed, and several peaches. Quickly, she stuffs them into the makeshift bag she'd created out of a few curtains. In her other hand, she clutches a pair of leather boots that she'd found in the closet of the room she was hiding out in. They are a bit big, but better than being in socked feet. The boots look quite ridiculous with her sleep shorts and sweatshirt, but they'll have to do.

She slips out of the huge, gaping hole in the side of the room. The hole that leads to the outside. Casting one last look at the monstrous castle, Emma runs straight into the forest.

Straight into the unknown.

**Author's note: 10 reviews and I'll update by Thurs! Btw, for anyone who likes Pretty Little Liars, plz check out the story The Hardened Heart by Monkeylovr. Co written by me and Monkeylovr but published under her account. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Hey y'all! Thank you so much for all the reviews and hope you enjoy this ch.**

**Note: this ch starts the next morning after the events of the last ch. **

Chapter 8

Beep beep beep! Neal rolls over and immediately wishes he hasn't done so, for his back's contact with the hard marble floor is less than pleasant. He reaches over and slaps the watch circled around his left wrist to shut off the annoying alarm. Why he wears a watch to bed, he does not know, but he is thankful of this little habit, for the watch has come in rather handy in the Enchanted Forest.

He sits up and looks over to his left. Expecting his fiancée to be there, he is shocked to discover that he is alone in one of the many guest rooms in this palace that he and Tamara have turned into their de facto bedroom. Though he knows that she has a habit of rising early to go for runs, he still finds himself slightly worried. This castle is huge; he himself has gotten lost several times. And not to mention the multitude of dangers in the Enchanted Forest, dangers that don't exist back in their home. But he reminds himself that his fiancée is very capable, that she can take care of herself. That he doesn't have to worry.

With a grunt, Neal hoists himself up. Time to find some food. He slips out of the room and down a long, stone hallway. Though the castle bores signs of damage (from the curse, he'd learned), there are still traces of the beautiful architecture that once made up this structure.

Neal is surprised with the degree of ease to which he'd adjusted to this situation. He'd recognized the food fairly well, even managed to choke down chimera without too much difficulty, even after decades of hamburgers. Then again, he's gotten pretty skilled at adapting to new living places. From the Enchanted Forest to Victorian England to Neverland to the Land Without Magic again, he's no stranger to new places.

He cannot believe that he is actually back. Back in the place that he'd fought so hard to leave, to escape from, all those years ago. The Enchanted Forest. He pauses in front of a window, the glass missing in many places, jagged pieces jutting out at random places in the stone wall. He'd never actually been to this part of the Forest. They'd lived in an entirely different area. The details are hazy, but he knows that the time he'd lived with his father was centuries before this castle was built. Which would technically make him way, _way _older than everybody here. If it wasn't for his time in Neverland, he'd probably be long dead. Which is something that he prefers not to think about. His convoluted past and everything are things he'd prefer to keep, well, in the past.

Neal doesn't know whether or not he's glad that she's forgotten everything. That the progress, the peace, they'd made had all been erased. Reset, at least in her mind. Now that she's lost her memories, she's mad at him all over again. But maybe what he wants is another chance to fix things. To make peace between them and bury the hatchet. To be able to finally move on.

He doesn't know why, but a small part is relieved that she doesn't know the truth about Tamara. He hadn't had the chance to introduce the two. The thought of doing so (again) is nerve wracking.

Maybe it's for the best that Emma's lost her memories.

* * *

On his way to the great room where the food is kept, Neal passes by a young child, appearing to be lost, in the hallway. He is looking from side to side, fear apparent in his eyes. In his arms he clutches several loaves of bread and a couple apples. Neal just stops and stares at the child, who suddenly looks a lot like Henry. His oval face has morphed into a round one, and his blond hair suddenly looks brown. Maybe it _is_ him? He blinks several times, and the child's appearance changes again. It is obviously not Henry.

Suddenly, an uncontrollable wave of grief rises inside him, and he has to swallow rapidly in order to quell it. Henry, his son. The son that he barely knows but already cares so much about. The son that he would do anything for. The son that mirrors himself as a child, minus the look of soul crushing abandonment. The son who is stuck, alone, back in Storybrooke, accompanied by only his very dangerous grandfather. Henry is probably as good as dead, given Rumplestilskin's volatile history, his tendency to destroy anything in his way. All Neal can do is hope that Rumplestilskin will take mercy on his grandson.

How could Neal have not noticed that Henry wasn't there? How could he have not protected him? In many ways, Neal is just as bad as his father, abandoning his son like that. One could argue that this wasn't his fault, that he couldn't possibly have known about being mysteriously transported back to the Enchanted Forest. But as a father, shouldn't he have some sort of ESP like perception that would allow him to protect his son? Neal feels like he's failed Henry. All he wants is to be a good father, the exact opposite of _his _father, but he's already fallen short of that.

The fact is, whether he likes it or not, Neal is exactly like his father. Someone who abandons their child. The worst part is, as far as anyone knows, there is no way of going back to Storybrooke. Nobody even knows how they even got here. Despite his strong dislike of the Evil Queen, he has been bugging Regina any chance he can get. Not to mention Mother Superior/the Blue Fairy. But even they don't know.

There isn't even any way to contact Rumplestilskin for help, like how Emma told him about how she and Mary Margaret had contacted him via dreams the time they were transported here by Jefferson's hat. Not that his father would be likely to help unless it benefited himself. Even it had to do with his own son, he probably wouldn't even care. But still. An option would be nice. All Neal wants to know is that Henry is ok. And the chance to apologize, to explain that he hadn't meant to leave him behind. But that is clearly out of the question.

There is, of course, one more option. He _could _go to Emma for help. He knows that she does have some magic, though she has no idea how to use or control it. But now that she's lost her memories, maybe she's lost her magical abilities. It's certainly possible, since in the time they'd spent together, she'd never shown any sign of magic. And Neal has had much experience with spotting magic.

With Emma on his side, they'd accomplish things much faster. She's always had an eye for detail and she could probably suggest things he hadn't thought of.

But there's the fact that Emma has lost her memories. That she no longer knows who Henry is. She only knows that she gave up a son in jail. She would just pronounce Neal crazy and punch him in the face.

Still. Henry is her son. In a way, more hers than his. Up until several months ago, he hadn't even been aware of the fact that his actions had had more drastic consequences than the obvious. She deserves to know, or rather relearn, about him. To get the chance to help him. He knows how much Emma and Henry care for each other, and how that love has changed her for the better. Without the knowledge of Henry, Emma has regressed back into the angry, bitter, closed off person she was. Maybe he can find something to jog her memory.

With a sigh, Neal trudges off towards her room. He only knows that it's hers because he'd asked David the day before. Emma's father had glared at him suspiciously, but nevertheless pointed him in the right direction. There is the possibility that she's not in her room, but he knows Emma well enough to be sure of the fact that she likes to hide out in solitude when stuck in an unfamiliar location.

Vaguely, he realizes that Tamara has been gone for an awfully long time. Come to think of it, she's been disappearing more and more. But he chalks it up to the fact that she's just curious about this place. Neither of them have ever been to a place like this before. This palace is something straight of a fairy tale, something that resembles a building tourists would flock to, something that architects would study. Tamara probably just wants to learn her way around. To admire the scenery despite the obvious hardships. He is very impressed with the degree of bravery that she's handling their less than stellar situation. Most women would be scared out of their minds at this point. Stuck in a strange land. This is one of the reasons why he loves Tamara. She's strong and capable. Much like…no. Neal would much rather not think about her right now.

Mentally preparing himself for the angry and possibly violent response his appearance would only garner, he steps into her room. And gasps as he finds it empty.

* * *

(later that night)

She hears the loud, guttural calls behind her. _Faster, faster. _She urges herself inwardly, cursing herself for choosing these boots. They're really not made for running from large, strange, bloodthirsty creatures.

Her breath is becoming shallow and her legs are aching like hell, but Emma continues to pump her arms, to propel herself away from whatever the hell is chasing her. She can hear the huge thumps of footsteps behind her. Feel them rattle her bones, make her heart to pound with an increasing frenzy. She doesn't even stop to think about what it is that's chasing her, that seems so hell bent on killing her.

She hadn't even been doing anything to provoke it. She was just running through the forest, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the castle full of freaks, when all of a sudden she'd heard the loud, bone chilling, hair raising growls. One look at the huge, hairy feet not twenty feet behind her and she was running. Running for her life.

Suddenly, without warning, the ground is rising up to meet her face and she finds herself sprawled out on the ground on her stomach, white hot pain shooting up her leg. Emma twists her head back and sees the large tree root sticking up from the ground not far from her left foot. Gingerly, she tries to scramble up, testing out her leg, slowly placing weight on it, but the pain alone is enough to make her gasp aloud, sending burning tears to her eyes.

The large, thumping footsteps become louder and louder, and Emma knows with a dead certainty that with every passing moment, the creature is approaching, becoming closer and closer. She tries to stand again, but her ankle can't support the weight of her body. _No, no, no._ Emma thinks frantically.

But it's too late. The hairs on the back of her neck rise. Suddenly, she can feel hot, stinking breaths behind her. Slowly, Emma flips herself onto her back. And looks straight into the milky white eyes of her soon to be killer.

She hears a voice in her head. _The last thing you'll see is your reflection in their eyes as you die._ The voice is vaguely familiar, but she cannot place it.

Frantically, Emma tries to scoot herself backwards, away from the creature. He looms over her, his face inches from hers. He lets out a loud growl, a growl that sends her hair flying in all directions, leaving her neck exposed. Emma grasps on the ground for anything, anything that will stop the creature, buy her time before her inevitable death. Branches, stones, anything. But there is nothing. Nothing except for dirt. Panic is rising as she sees the razor sharp, blood stained teeth. The teeth that have obviously killed so many before her. The teeth that will ultimately be her undoing.

The creature is coming closer and closer. She sees his large claws. Claws that are so effortlessly uprooting trees in his haste to get to her. To kill. Claws that will rip her apart, limb from limb.

She will never meet her parents. Never fall in love again. Never have the life that she's always dreamed of. She will die here, alone in a strange place where nobody will know.

As if he senses her fear, the creature approaches with an increasing frenzy, drool dripping from the large, fleshy lips that will lead to her tomb. In one fell swoop, the creature reaches down and picks her up, lifting her ten, twenty, thirty feet in the air. Emma does not even bother to struggle, to try to free herself from the creature's grip, for she knows that it is useless. Stars appear in her vision as she struggles to draw breath, as the creature's grip on her becomes tighter and tighter. Everything is growing hazy and unfocused. She feels herself begin to black out, to pass out from lack of air. The last thing she will ever see is the creature's teeth. The wide jaw that is opening to devour her. As she closes her eyes and prepares for her death, the one thought pulsing through her mind is that this creature looks very familiar. A flash of déjà vu flows through her.

Suddenly, she hears the clip clopping of footsteps behind her, footsteps that sound like a horse galloping. Emma hears a woman's shouts and cries, and the whistle of the wind as something ripples through the night. The grip on her body is released, and she is catapulted through the air, screaming as her world turns upside down. Her neck bangs down on something rough and sharp and a horrible clang fills her ears, air seemingly leaving her body as she hits the cold earth.

Emma vaguely hears a guttural growl as something large and undoubtedly heavy hits the ground near her. Something close to her cracks loudly, and she cannot tell whether it's the crack of a tree branch or a splintered bone in her body. She tries to sit up, to fight, anything, but she cannot move. It feels as though every cell in her body is weighed down with sandbags.

Through half closed eyes, she can make out the hazy shapes of two figures cautiously making their way towards her. Fevering whispers fill the air.

But the mind numbing, unforgiving pain is too much, and everything slowly fades to black, giving way to nothingness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Hey y'all! Sorry for the long wait! Summer's busier than I expected, with getting ready for college and all. Anyway, hope this ch makes up for it!**

Chapter 9

Gold rifles through his shop, overturning boxes and smashing bottles in his haste to find it. To find the one thing that can help him find _her._ Finally, he sees it. Spots it lying innocuously on top of a large pile of precariously stacked books. He breathes a sigh of relief and limps over, grabbing it with both hands and placing it on the glass counter. The one object that can help her. The magic globe that helped him to find his son. The globe that will now enable him to find her.

He has no idea where she could've ended up. Where everyone else is. For all he knows, it could be Neverland, somewhere he'd rather not travel to. Not that it matters, for he has no means of traveling there anyway. But, he reminds himself, for Belle, anything is worth it. He will do whatever it takes to get her back.

It occurs to him that he could've used magic to find the globe, that it would've been a lot faster, but he doesn't dwell on this. He pricks his finger on the needle and watches as it drips down. His heart beats with excitement as shapes begin to swirl on the globe's surface. _Yes. _He thinks as the shapes slowly come into focus. He places both hands on the counter, focused intently on the swirly details, breathing heavily, praying that wherever she is, it's somewhere in this land. Somewhere he can go to.

And then the swirls settle. Settle into what is unmistakably a large, dense, and very familiar forest. Instantly, Gold's heart drops to his feet as rage and grief courses through him once more.

_No._ He thinks frantically as he shakes the globe, rubs his eyes, does anything and everything he can think of to change what he sees. But the globe's answer remains unchanged, staring up at him, mocking him. The Enchanted Forest. Somewhere that he has no means of traveling to. He has nothing. No way to cross worlds.

_No! _Gold hurls the globe across the room, where it shatters into a thousand pieces. But that is nothing compared to what he is feeling.

Suddenly, his fury overpowers him. He smashes his cane into the nearest object, the glass display case full of priceless artifacts.

Nothing escapes his warpath as he sinks his cane repeatedly into any solid object. Books are torn viciously apart, glass is shattered,

With every smash and shatter, the same thoughts repeat themselves in his mind.

_How _could he have been so _stupid? _

How did this happen?

Was this some sort of punishment?

Why did he always end up losing everyone important to him?

The soul crushing, heart squeezing knowledge that this is all his fault doesn't help. If he hadn't been so eager to retrieve her memories, he would've thought over the consequences of that spell. Granted, he's been practicing magic for so long that he knows all of his spells inside and out, backwards and forwards, but still. He of all people should know that magic is unpredictable, especially in the Land Without Magic, and that it could've reacted badly with something else.

Obviously it did. Gold deduces that his spell must've had a bad reaction with some other magical substance or object. He has no idea what his memory retrieval spell, designed to affect one, could've clashed with that would cause everyone to disappear.

Above all, he has no idea how to get her back. There is the very imminent possibility that he will never see Belle (and Baelfire again). That he will forever and always be alone.

Gold sinks down, his head in his hands. No matter how hard he tries, he always fails. Maybe he is just destined to live out the rest of his life in misery. Alone.

Nothing kills him more than not knowing. Not knowing what happened. He has rarely, if ever, been in the dark. He prides himself on knowing everything there is to know about magic. Being so helpless is one of the worst feelings in the world. This is so similar to what happened with Baelfire. He'd thought had had a second chance at happiness, but he'd been wrong. So, so wrong.

For what feels like an eternity, he just sits there, amidst the victims of his rage. The wreckage that constitutes his store. He feels numb and heavy. He vaguely realizes that he has a cut on the back of his hand, but he cannot feel it. Cannot feel anything anymore. What is the point?

He wishes he is dead. Why did he have to be the only person left here?

Something flashes out of the corner of his eye. He briefly looks up, but sees nothing. Probably just a rat. But then he sees it again. Something that's moving outside. A striped scarf, a black coat. A small figure. Curious, Gold pushes himself up, leaning heavily on his cane and limps towards the window. Could there be someone else here? Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been unaffected by the mysterious spell.

Gold presses his nose to the glass, keeping his eyes peeled. All is quiet and still outside. But he knows what he saw. He pushes open the door, the tinkle of the bell loud in his ears, and steps outside. He looks from side to side. Narrows his eyes.

He hears something. The scrape of sneakers against pavement. Someone panting. Unless he is hallucinating, he is not alone. Gold squints down the street; he can see someone running. A small figure, probably a scared child, running down the street.

He is not alone.

Gold begins step-thumping down the street, back into his shop. He is in no mood to deal with a crying, sniveling child. To be frank, he does not care. This child is none of his concern. But then something occurs to him. The child is very familiar. Cherubic cheeks, striped scarf, brown hair.

_No. It can't be. _

And then another sound catches his attention. The scrape of tires against pavement, coming from the direction of the figure. Gold whips around.

The shock written on Henry's face mirrors his own as both pairs of eyes simultaneously register the other's appearance and take in the unfamiliar red minivan slowly rolling down the street.

Straight into the heart of Storybrooke.

**Author's note: Ooohhh I wonder who they are! Looks like Gold and Henry will have to *gasp* work together?! **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Everything hurts. She is lying on her back on a soft, wooly surface. Someone has removed her sweatshirt, leaving her in a thin tank top. A thick blanket covers her bare shoulders, protecting her from the howling wind.

Her memory is a gaping hole; she is unable to remember the last thing that happened. She had been in the forest and then…blackness. Emma attempts to open her eyes, but she feels as though she has no control over her body. She tries to sit up, but even moving an inch causes her body screams with protest. She gives up, lying back down, eyes still closed.

Mentally, she catalogues her injuries. Throbbing head. Concussion. Her left hand shakily reaches up and probes along her hairline, cringing as her fingers find a large bump. She finds that she is unable to lift her right hand or even wiggle her fingers. It has been immobilized in some sort of cast. But that's the least of it. Her entire body aches, as if she'd been run over by a truck. The searing pain that flared when she tried to sit up leads her to the conclusion that her ribs are broken.

Slowly, Emma opens her eyes. Adjusts to the dim light. The first thing she sees is the red awning above her. She is lying in what appears to be a makeshift tent. Through her foggy vision, she can see two figures standing outside, deep in conversation. Their faces are in profile, but she can make out long brown hair on one of the women and black hair on the other.

She struggles to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she can only make out scattered words and disjointed phrases over the howling wind.

"…no idea why she's back." One voice says.

_Back? _Emma wonders. That would imply that she's been here before, something that is most certainly not true. You'd think she'd be able to remember a previous trip to this strange land.

With one hand, she gingerly lifts up her shirt and almost throws up at the awful site. Just about her entire torso is black and blue with ugly bruises. There are strange marks, seemingly in the pattern of…a claw? Slowly, she flexes her ankle and winces. Painful, but not nearly as much as a broken ankle would've been. Probably just badly sprained. She cranes her head down, and sees that someone has bandaged it, as well as one of her legs.

Emma lies back down and lets out a groan of frustration. With the extent of her injuries, it could be weeks, maybe months before she could leave. Though whoever these people are have clearly taken care of her, bandaged her wounds, she does not trust them. She has no idea who they are and what they are capable of. For all she knows, they could be the cause of everything.

Suddenly, she hears footsteps approaching. Her eyes snap shut, though her ears remain on high alert, a trick she'd mastered after living in many foster homes. She struggles to keep her breathing even and quiet, trying to calm her pounding heart. She needs to feign sleep in order to buy time to figure out an escape plan.

Someone reaches down and places their hand on her forehead. "Still out." A woman's voice says.

"But it's been like 3 days." Another voice, higher in pitch, protests. Also a woman. This woman strokes her cheek. "Poor Emma."

Her charade of sleep is over as she jerks up. "How do you know my name?" She demands.

"You're awake." A face swims into her line of vision. Emma finds herself staring up at the face of a tough looking Asian warrior.

"Where am I? What happened?" Emma asks. "Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?"

The other woman, the brunette, looks at her friend uncertainly. "D-do you not remember us?"

"_Remember_?" Emma frowns, wincing as she does so. "I've never seen you before in my life."

The women exchange a look; a silent agreement passes between them. Emma struggles to read their faces, but they remain stony and impassive.

"Here." They step over and slowly help her sit up. A flask of liquid is pressed into her good hand.

"What is this?" Emma takes a whiff of the liquid. Some kind of tea.

"Drink it." The brunette says. "It'll help with the pain."

"Not until you tell me who you are." Emma wishes she could cross her arms for maximum toughness but that is out of the question.

"As stubborn as I remember." The Asian warrior rolls her eyes. "I'm Mulan and this is Aurora."

_Mulan and Aurora?_ Emma repeats the names in her mind. Mulan and Aurora. For some reason, she associates those names with ogres, pirates, and beanstalks. But she has no idea why.

"What do you mean by remember?" Emma asks. "You're acting as though you know me."

"We do." The brunette-Aurora says.

"No you don't." Emma notices that Mulan is staring strangely at her. The Asian warrior appears to be contemplating something.

"Yes we do!" Aurora insists, her voice growing in pitch, visibly agitated. "We know your mother as well! You must've hit your head really hard. How could you not remember?"

"Wait what?" Emma stares at Aurora. "My _mother?" _Suddenly, she is intrigued. What do these strange people know about her mother?

More than Emma herself knows, apparently.

"Yeah she…" Aurora is cut off by Mulan, who claps a black gloved hand over her mouth.

"That's enough. We'll talk more tomorrow. Emma needs her rest." Mulan says calmly to Aurora. She turns towards Emma. "You should drink that. And get some sleep. We have a long journey in the morning." She throws a look at Aurora, who seems as though she is about to say something. But in the end, she follows Mulan outside.

Emma wants to protest that she doesn't need sleep, that all she needs is answers, stat, but she knows that it's no use arguing. She can tell from years of experience reading people that they are not going to reveal anything unless she complies with them. Emma lies back down tries to sleep, to relax, but her thoughts are whirling. By the looks on Mulan and Aurora's faces, they clearly know more than they are letting on. Mulan may have an excellent poker face, but Aurora does not.

She has been dying for the past 28 years to learn something, anything, about the people who thought so little of her they abandoned her on the side of the road like an unwanted couch. And now it looks like she's stumbled upon an untapped gold mine of information.

Maybe there is a silver lining to place after all.

**Author's note: So for those of you who guessed Mulan and Aurora, you're much smarter than I expected. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Whoooo over 100 reviews! Thanks to everyone who took the time to review!**

Chapter 11

Lost. They are hopelessly and completely lost. Something that Peter Callahan hates above everything else. This road trip wasn't his idea. In fact, he is more of the luxury cruise type. But it was his wife's turn to choose their vacation, and a road trip was what she wanted. In fact, she'd been quite insistent on it.

"Daddy, I'm hungry." Comes the voice of six year old Chloe from the backseat. She is clutching her bear under one arm and her thumb is in her mouth.

"Ok, princess." Peter says absently. "We'll get you some food. Something that tastes better than your thumb."

"Baby." Ten year old Jake says rather nastily. "Still sucking your thumb." He puts down his video game, reaches over, and snatches the bear out of his sister's arms. "What's wrong, baby? Can't live without your bear?"

Chloe immediately starts to argue back in her high pitched voice, and soon enough the car is filled with shouts, cries, and tears.

"Enough!" Their mother, Jessica says impatiently. "Jake, give your sister back her bear." She looks down at the faded, worn map on her lap; they are a bit on the old fashioned side, preferring paper maps to smartphones. "If we take this road we should be there…" She frowns worriedly. They seem to be in the middle of nowhere. One moment amidst a rush hour traffic jam, and suddenly nothing. There is a strange absence of life.

Just then, they pass a sign. _Welcome to Storybrooke. _

"Huh." Jessica comments. "That's odd." She squints down at the map. "It's not on here."

"Doesn't matter." Peter says as he turns off the highway. "We'll stop here for the night, get some food, and ask someone for directions."

The Callahan's red minivan slowly rolls down the street. Argument forgotten, Jake and Chloe press their noses against the window, clearly intrigued. This town, Storybrooke, has a small town vibe. Charming looking buildings, locally owned businesses.

However, the further the Callahan's minivan goes into Storybrooke, they begin to discover that this place is quite odd.

"Hmm…" Jessica says as she peers out the window. "Where's everybody?"

There is a strange absence of people. Jessica checks the clock; it's only 7. Still pretty early. Most of the shops are closed, curtains drawn, lights out. "It's like a ghost town."

"A ghost town?" Jake looks up from his video game. "Cool." He turns towards his sister. "Hey Chloe. Bet it's haunted."

"Don't be ridiculous." Peter snaps. "Look, there's someone there." He points out the window at a small man, leaning heavily on a cane. He seems to be staring straight at them. "We'll go and ask him for directions."

He pulls over, stopping in front of the man, rolling down the window. "Hey, excuse me?" He calls.

Slowly, the man looks up at him. Strangely, this man has an odd look of grief about him. Peter can see the remnants of tear tracks on his heavily lined face.

"Yes?" He asks. He has a peculiar accent, something that Peter does not recognize.

"Uh…we're a little lost. Can you point us in the direction of a hotel or something?"

The look on this man's face can only be described by shocked. He stares for so long Peter is tempted to just drive away. It seems as though the man is trying to place them or something. As though he is trying hard to remember them.

"Why?" He says finally. He seems abashed that they would ask such a question.

"Why what?" Peter asks.

"Why do you need a hotel?"

_What an odd question. _"To stay in for the night." He says. "We're a little lost so…"

Another long stare. Weird. They must not get very many visitors.

"All right." Jessica pipes up. Clearly, she has picked up on the tension. "Sorry to bother you. We'll just be on our way."

"Nonsense." The man says. "Let me give you a personal tour of our charming little town."

"Oh no, that won't be necessary." Peter tries to decline politely. "We're a little tired."

"I insist." The man grins, revealing a row of yellowish teeth.

Peter shrugs. There is something about this man that makes it impossible to say no. "Ok. Thanks."

The Callahans exit their minivan, leaving it parked on the side of the street. There doesn't seem to be any other cars on the street, so he figures it should be fine.

"This way." The man holds an arm out.

As the Callahans follow the man down the street, Peter notices a young boy, about Jake's age, peering curiously at them. Most of his body is hidden behind a tree, leaving only part of his face exposed. The expression on the boy's face is clearly one of fear.

Peter is about to go over and investigate, but the man seemingly catches on and suddenly turns to face the family.

"Welcome to Storybrooke." The man says. Peter gets the feeling that this is meant to distract him from something. But what?

Just then, the man does something so quick and fleeting that Peter would've missed it if he hadn't been paying attention. The man casts a furtive, yet pointed look at something behind him.

Or maybe someone.

Out of curiosity, Peter turns around, but the boy is gone.

**Author's note: Sooo who do y'all think the Callahans are? A random road tripping family or...? What do you think they are up to? And what about Henry and Gold? What will they do to keep the family from finding out the truth about Storybrooke? Review to find out!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Belle is scared. She has tried many times, calling out for him, begging for him to rescue her. She does not understand why he does not come.

Huddled in a ball in a remote corner of the castle, she is staring morosely out the window. The last thing she remembers is that cell in Regina's castle. And then she woke up here, in this strange, damp castle, surrounded by dozens of strange people.

Belle would like nothing more than to escape, to run wild into the forest, but when she tries she was stopped by several burly looking guards. For her safety, she was told. The Enchanted Forest wasn't what it used to be. Which doesn't make any sense at all; aside from the wreckage in the castle, the forest looks relatively unchanged. Granted, she's never been in this part of the forest before, as Rumple's castle had been in a completely different area.

Ever since the disappearance of someone named Emma, the entire castle has been on lockdown. No one is allowed out, except for certain approved groups. Mostly hunters or people doing castle repairs.

Belle can tell that some time has passed. The way that people talk, their strange appearances. Like everybody is a different version of themselves. Including herself. She looks down at her clothes in distaste. What happened to the dress she had been wearing at Regina's castle? This paper thin gown is hardly comfortable.

Strangely enough, nobody looks as though they've aged very much. From time to time, as she wonders around the castle, dazed, she hears people bring up "the curse" and "Storybrooke". She keeps hearing things about people losing their Storybrooke memories. What's Storybrooke? Lose memories? Is that what happened? Is that why many people are acting so weird? It's like they've lose their identities.

She doesn't understand why everyone is being so ridiculously vague! It's so frustrating. Half the people seem as confused as she does, and the other half gives her the same ambiguous excuses, such as earthquake. The weirdest thing is that of the people who know something, they seem astonished by her questions. She's heard people stare at her, murmuring things like "she remembers" or "she has her memory back". It's almost like they don't expect her to know who she is. Weird. Belle has no idea what they are talking about.

These people are nice enough; yet she cannot help but feel unsettled. She knows none of them yet they seem to know everything about her. The only person she truly trusts is Grumpy. Or, as many call him, Leroy. But she can tell that even he is hiding something from her.

That woman, Regina. Same cold, unforgiving sneer. Same coal black eyes. Belle is glad to find that she is not alone in her distrust and fear of this woman. As she wanders the castle, she sees many people throw the Evil Queen dirty looks. Weirdly though, this woman does not immediately kill them with her magic spells as Belle expects. She just ignores them.

It's Regina and that man, David, who know something. Judging by the strange looks they exchanged when she asked them about Rumple, they know more than they are letting on. She would press them further, but they are preoccupied with finding someone named Henry. And more recently, Emma.

There is a niggling doubt inside that he hasn't answered her desperate calls, come to stop her heartbreaking sobs, because he does not love her anymore. That she's really and truly ruined things. But Belle refuses to believe that. He didn't come for her when she trapped in Regina's because of the Evil Queen's many cloaking devices. No, he's still looking for her. Belle believes deep in her heart that eventually, he will find her. Even in this new place.

* * *

Belle wanders down the hall, her fingers lingering on the cold stone walls, tracing the cracks along the wall. She would've preferred to stay in the solitude of the room she's claimed as hers, but her gnawing hunger got the best of her. She heads toward the room where food is kept and is about to go inside when she hears loud, arguing voices. Intrigued, she slips behind a column to listen.

There is a tall, worried looking man who is pleading with David. Belle is startled to see that in just a few short weeks, David seems to have aged several decades, appearing worn out and overly stressed.

"Please." He appears to be begging. "I've already lost my son."

David peruses the man strangely. "Are you sure that's the only reason?"

Belle studies David's suddenly defensive stance. She's already figured that David and Regina are the leaders of this place, but David's expression conveys the fact that this Emma is someone he really cares about.

The man nods quickly. A little too quickly, in Belle's opinion. "Absolutely. I mean, I do still care for her, but come on man. I'm engaged." As if for good measure, he holds up his hand.

"No." David says firmly. "I will not risk the safety of anyone else, Neal. Who knows what else is out there?"

"I can protect myself." Neal insists. "Come on. You said so yourself yesterday that you'd go look for her if it wasn't for your wife."

"I already have a group looking." David argues. "Including Ruby, who should be able to sniff out Emma's path in no time."

"Still. It'd be better if I go." Neal says petulantly. "I know Emma. I know which way she'd go. What possible actions she might take. And I know this place better than she does." His voice softens. "I know you're her father. But I care about her too."

One of the things Belle has always been good at reading people, and she can tell by Neal's body language and desperate demeanor that there is something going on. Though he insists that this is purely platonic, Belle has the sense that he is not a hundred percent truthful. This Emma is clearly somehow important to him.

Like maybe he still has feelings for her? And the way David looked at Neal. Almost like a stern father glaring at his daughter's boyfriend. Or maybe ex since he has a fiancée?

Which is quite strange. David appears quite young, which means that Emma is probably really little. So how would Neal be her boyfriend?

"Besides." Neal continues. "She might be able to help."

"How so?" Regina pipes up. "I'm sure Ms. Swan is an excellent fighter, but we have an endless supply of those around here." She says dismissively.

"Emma has magic." Neal answers. "Wait…you didn't know?" He turns to David. "You never told her?"

"Well…no." David says. "It never came up."

Regina rolls her eyes. "Doesn't surprise me. Product of true love and all." Her voice drips with sarcasm.

"And Gold did say that she'd be pretty powerful." David sighs and turns to look at Regina. "I guess it couldn't hurt?"

"No." Regina agrees. Her voice causes goosebumps to flare on Belle's arms; she can't help it but she will always be a little scared of the Evil Queen. "I suppose it couldn't. And it _would _give us more time to think about Henry." Her voice cracks at the last word.

Belle has had enough; this seems like an overly personal conversation and she can come for food later. She slips out and crashes straight into somebody.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't see you there." Belle apologizes immediately. "A-are you ok?"

"It's fine. My fault." A small, dark skinned woman smiles. Her smile does not quite reach her eyes, which Belle is startled to find are quite cold. As cold as a snake's. "I was just on my way to find Neal."

Neal. "Ah, so I take it you're the fiancée."

"I am." The woman replies. "Do you know him? Neal?"

"Me?" Belle points at herself. "Oh, no. I just overheard him talking with that man. David? He was saying something about going to find someone named Emma."

"Really?" Something in the woman's eyes shift. She seems almost…happy? Happy that Neal's leaving?

"Yeah." Belle says. "Do you know anything about that?"

"I did." The woman says smoothly. "In fact…I was just going to say goodbye."

Huh. Belle would've sworn that this woman hadn't known. Something about her seems insincere.

"Well, guess you're gonna miss him." Belle comments.

"Of course I will." The woman says simply. "Well, bye." As she leaves, there is a disquieting smile on her face that sends a chill down Belle's spine. She thinks she hears the woman whisper "jackpot" to herself.

_Odd._Belle thinks to herself. Why would this woman be happy about her fiancée leaving? Especially to find his ex?

There is something sinister going on with this woman, and Belle is determined to find out what.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Hey, sorry for the long wait. Just started college and wow it keeps you really busy!**

Chapter 13

Tamara can barely contain her glee as she walks rapidly away from the brunette. Everything is falling into place. Finally, all of her waiting and patience has paid off. Finally, she can stop pretending to be in love with Neal. Keeping up the ruse has been exhausting, to say the least. She's been trying to spend as much time without him as possible. But her "going for a run" excuse has been way overused. Tamara's slightly surprised that he hasn't suspected anything yet.

But then again, he's been a little preoccupied with finding his son, and more recently, his ex. It could not have come at a better time.

Now, finally, their plan can be put into action. And it will be better than they'd planned, thanks to that unexpected twist.

* * *

Weary. That's probably the only word that could possibly be used to describe Regina right now. _Or maybe drained, worn out, and defeated. _Regina thinks as she peruses her uncharacteristically disheveled appearance in the shards of what was once a large mirror. The usually impeccably groomed woman cannot remember the last time she had under eye circles this large. Even without magic in Storybrooke, she'd taken great care into maintaining her physical appearance, being sure to iron her clothes and apply perfect makeup.

But now, beauty is the last thing on her mind. Even though she could've fixed her appearance with a mere flick of her wrist, she could not care less about how she looks. Ever since they'd been magically transported back to the Enchanted Forest several weeks (actually, she isn't sure, for she's lost track of time) ago, the only thing on her mind, her top priority, is getting back to her son.

There is nothing that scares Regina more than not knowing. Not knowing why this happened, not knowing how this happened, and not knowing how to get back. Not knowing why out of anyone, her son had to be the one who was separated from everyone else. Alone. Well, not exactly alone. As far as they knows, Henry is with Gold. Which was hardly a step up from being alone. It would probably be safer for Henry if he was by himself, actually.

Above all, not knowing how to get back to Henry. How to help him. Regina can only imagine how scared he is right now. How angry he is that everyone abandoned him. Regina wishes that she could communicate with him in some way, to let him know that she is doing everything she can to fight her way back to him.

But without Gold's help, there is no way. The Blue Fairy, well, she's practically useless. As one of the only magic holding people, she was automatically thrust into the spot of leader, along with David. The idea of working with one of her former sworn enemies is pretty laughable, though the last thing Regina feels like doing right now is laughing. With the stress of trying to find a way to Henry, dealing with the pissed off and scared residents of Storybrooke, and trying to hold it all in- Regina is stretched way too thin.

She presses her palms against her eyes as she fights to blink back the tears that are perpetually threatening to flow. Why did this have to happen? Out of everything that has recently transpired, doesn't she deserve some sort of break? Doesn't everything she's been through cut her some slack?

Suddenly, she hears a loud growl ripple through the castle, causing the walls to seemingly shake. The sorry excuse for a mirror shudders on the wall and falls to her feet, shattering in a thousand pieces. Regina looks up in alarm. She can hear the beginnings of a scared crowd, their voices rising, intermingling with screams until she can no longer hear herself think.

What is going on? Her first thought is earthquake, but that wouldn't explain the growl she'd heard. The castle vibrates again, causing Regina to almost lose her footing. She steps out of the room she's claimed as her own and starts down the marble hallway, groaning. Some sort of beast, perhaps? Whatever it is, it proves that these people are way too pathetic to deal with it.

And then she stops short as she takes in the threat.

Because standing not far from her is an ogre. One of the scariest, hair raising creatures in the Enchanted Forest. One that even she cowers in fear of.

Ignoring her pounding heart, Regina raises her hands in preparation to throw a fireball at the ogre. But the fire does not come. She tries again, but her hands come up empty.

"Dammit." She curses. Damn the unreliable magic.

All the hair on the back of her neck raises as the ogre comes charging straight at her, with a roar that blows everyone's hair back. Regina stares at its terrifying face, frozen. It seems to be targeting her and only her. As if everyone else does not exist. But that's ridiculous, for ogres cannot see. Her feet are seemingly rooted to the ground, paralyzed with fear.

Regina is jolted out of her thoughts as a huge group of people rush swiftly by her, away from the oncoming ogre. "RUN!" One of them shouts, and somehow, her feet begin to move, to propel her away from the ogre. She curses her own inability to do magic as she runs along with everyone else. She hasn't been so, so…_common _ever since she'd learned magic. Several people try in vain to attack the ogre, to stop it, but they fail, for the ogre merely swats them away like flies.

She longs to shout at everybody, to tell them to shut up, since the ogre is only following the sounds of their extremely loud voices. But that would be counterproductive, and it's not like they could hear her anyway.

Everything is a blur as she runs. People rush past her; the crowd is one fluid moving object. Regina curses at the fact that for the first time ever, her royal upbringing has left her at a disadvantage; she is not as physically fit as many people. Without magic, she is defenseless. Can't even run very fast.

Suddenly, without warning, something (or maybe someone) jams into her from behind, sending her sprawling to the ground. People are running so fast around her that they don't even notice, don't stop to help. Regina attempts to stand, but is instantly pushed back down by the tide of people running by.

She can tell by the loud thumps that the ogre is approaching with every passing second. And then its right in front of her. Stretching its ugly face towards hers. A loud roar escapes its large hole of a mouth.

Can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but stare. Regina is transported back to when she was a little girl. When she encountered her first ogre. She'd been paralyzed with fear, much like now. A fear that she has never been able to forget.

"HEY!" Calls a loud voice to her right. Startled, Regina looks over to see a tall, dark haired woman aiming an arrow straight at the creature's head. For a second it looks like Mary Margaret, but on second glance the woman has long hair, not short and closely cropped.

Distracted, the ogre looks over at the woman. Neal's fiancée. Tamara? Something like that. The ogre starts towards her, letting loose another bone chilling growl.

"Come on." Someone lifts her up from behind. Regina whips around. It's that stranger. Greg Mendel. Dazed, she allows herself to be helped up as she stares at Tamara in part awe and jealousy. Tamara deftly lets the arrow fly, hitting the ogre straight in the center of its eye. The ogre teeters for a second, takes a step forward, and gradually collapses to the floor, creating thousands of cracks in the already damaged marble ground.

A strong contrast from earlier, the castle is as silent as a tomb as people slowly emerge from their hiding places. Murmurs fill the air as they approach the dead body and inspect it, tiptoeing around it. David brings out the order to remove the body, and several dozen people come rushing forward to help.

Regina just stares at the dead ogre, her arms wrapped around herself. She'd been that close to the edge. To a painful and humiliating death. If it hadn't been for Tamara and Greg…

"Are you ok?" Greg asks in concern. Speak of the devil.

"Yeah." Regina nods curtly. "Thanks." She says as she dusts off her clothes, trying to keep her bitterness hidden. As a (former) queen, she should've been the one to save everybody. Instead, she'd been paralyzed with fear like some pathetic waif while some random mortal defeated the ogre.

"No problem." Tamara comes over, the bow dangling loosely from her side. In one hand is the slime covered arrow that she's yanked out from the ogre's eye.

"You sure you're not from the Enchanted Forest?" Regina smirks slightly.

"No." Tamara smiles. "Just had a lot of practice at summer camp."

"Well, thanks again." Regina turns to go. This has been humiliating enough.

"Wait." Greg stops her. "We were just coming to talk to you before that thing appeared. We want to help you find Henry."

"What?" Regina flinches at the sound of her son's name and turns around. Surely she's heard wrong. "You want to _what_?"

"Help you find Henry." Tamara repeats.

"Why would you want to do that?" Regina's voice is laced with suspicion as she peruses the pair.

"Because this is killing Neal and I hate to see him so upset." Tamara says simply. "I want to do everything I can to help."

Regina hated to admit it, but the brunette's words kind of made sense. She turns to Greg. "And what about you?" She looks him up and down, disgust written all over her face.

"Oh, well let's just say I've always had a soft spot for lost little boys." Greg answers almost immediately.

_Strange combination of words. _Regina's eyes pierce theirs as she attempts to get to the bottom of why they are randomly offering their help. They are nobodies. Just strangers passing by. So why would they be almost seemingly insisting to help?

"And why would you think _you _can help me?" Regina says finally. "You know nothing about magic. You're _mortals_." She chides.

"That may be true, but I happen to have a college degree in mythology. There might be something I know that can help." Tamara replies. "And if not, at the very least we can help you with everything around here. I imagine it just be exhausting, being you."

"Let us help." Greg urges. "It's not like we have anything better to do."

"You can trust us." It's almost as if Tamara can read her mind. "Really."

Regina narrows her eyes at them. But she detects nothing but pure friendliness. A pure desire to help her find her son.

_Maybe they have a point. _A little voice says in the back of Regina's mind. _Maybe they really can help. _Her eyes flick over to the overeager pair again. They seemed to be laying it on a little thick, but maybe they just really wanted to do what they could. And what harm could it be, letting two random mortals help her?

And if their help really did pay off, allowing Regina to find her way back to Henry, she'd be the only mother in Henry's life. Now that Emma was off at God knows where, Regina was really the only one suited to be Henry's mother. The only one in the position to get back to her son.

When Regina got Henry back (and she would, if it was the last thing she ever did), she could tell her son that Ms. Swan had died. And it might not even be a lie, for Regina knows how inexperienced the blonde was with the Enchanted Forest.

"Alright." Regina finds herself nodding. "Meet me here tomorrow. We'll see how much you know."

"Great!" Tamara practically beams.

It's only until they've left that Regina wonders where Tamara had obtained a bow and arrow. And how she'd known to use it.

**Author's note: Ooohh what do you think that means? Review!**

** So, the next update prolly won't come for several wks but I'll try to update as soon as I can. **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"You ok back there?" Aurora looks back at Emma for the millionth time of the day, concern apparent on her face.

"Fine. Just fine." Emma mumbles. But this is far from the truth. Lying in the back of a wagon proved to be far less comfortable than it sounded. Though Mulan and Aurora had tried their best to layer the hard wood surface with blankets, they couldn't disguise the bumpiness of the road. Emma could feel every rock, pebble, and bumps of the dirt road that rattled her entire body, sending waves of pain radiating throughout.

She found herself clenching her fist on her good hand, gritting her teeth together to block out the pain. They stop and rest often, but even so, by the time they'd reached their campsite for the night, Emma is covered in a thin layer of sweat. What she wouldn't give for some proper painkillers.

To make matters worse, at every stop, either Mulan or Aurora would continually pester her, saying things such as do you really not remember us, how did you get back here, etc. Emma is _thisclose _to exploding, to scream at them to back off, to cry out that she does not know who in the hell they are. Additionally, she would like nothing more than to ask them about what they know about her mother, if anything. But she forces herself to bite her tongue. The last thing she needs is to piss them off and be left alone in the cold, dark forest where she'd surely be attacked again.

* * *

They have started whispering. She tries to strain and listen in, but the squeak of the wagon's wheels cover up their voices. Every so often, one of them turns around and looks at her, as if making sure that she hadn't overheard them. As if she could over the howling wind and scrape of the road.

Emma doesn't know if she's grateful that they found her. Without them, she surely would've died. Though at this point, death might actually be preferable. After all, she has nothing to live for. No one who cares about her, trapped in this alternate universe with strange people who claim to know her though she's made it clear that she does not know them.

Slowly, Mulan and Aurora help her out of the wagon and settle her in their makeshift shelter, tucking blankets around her. Emma cannot help the burn of tears that come rushing; no one has ever been this nice, this caring. In all her life she has never known anyone to be this compassionate, especially to a total stranger. Vaguely, she wonders if they really _do _know her. Why else would they be so nice? But she quickly waves away that notion as fast as it comes. There's no way she knows a couple of _fairytale _characters. What a ridiculous thought.

"We'll stay here for the night." Mulan says as she comes back moments later with a dead animal in her arms. Emma mentally groans, already dreading it's bitter, tough meat and is surprised to find that she recognizes the animal though there's certainly nothing like that back home.

Soon, they have a fire started and the shelter seems almost cozy. Pieces of meat (if you can even call it that) are slowly being roasted. The spicy, pungent spell permeates the air.

Aurora offers Emma a piece, but Emma waves it away. Her stomach is knots and she's barely been hungry since she's arrived here. Her eyes focus outside, where leaves swirl violently in the air, and she shifts restlessly. If only she wasn't injured. Then she'd be far, far away from these people.

However nice they are, Emma knows she cannot trust them. She has experienced far too many painful things in her life to know that people are never what they seem. That everything comes with a price. That there is always a catch. That in the end, she always loses.

Mulan catches Emma's eye. "You can stop looking around. We're safe here." She gestures at the meat. "You should really eat something."

"I'm good." Emma squirms under Mulan's firm gaze; there is something about the woman that leaves her feeling unsettled.

"Relax." Aurora places her hand over Emma's, probably to soothe her, but Emma jerks away from her touch.

"How can I?" Emma snaps. The emotions she's been holding in all day are finally being released. "I'm in stuck in fate's idea of a cruel joke! I don't know any of you people and I have no idea how to get home."

"We're just trying to help…" Aurora protests, but Mulan elbows her and the brunette clams right up. They exchange a loaded look but Emma is too fired up to notice.

"Look, I get that you're just trying to help. And I'm grateful, I really am. But let's get one thing straight. I don't know you. I really don't know who you are. You can quit trying to jog my memory. Maybe I have amnesia and maybe I don't. But either way, it doesn't matter." Emma turns away and glares at the ground.

"You're right." Mulan says slowly after a long pause. "You have every right to be upset."

_Damn right I do! _Emma thinks furiously as she picks at a knot in the blanket with her good hand.

"I guess we mistook you for someone else. The name Emma must be really common." Aurora adds. Her words have this stilted quality to them, as if she'd recited them. "And we're sorry." She smiles, but it looks a little forced to Emma.

Her tone is a little too chipper, and she turns away to tend to the slowly dying fire. Aurora looks down as well and starts fiddling with a rip in her dress.

Emma stares at them suspiciously for a long moment. "Alright." Her bullshit radar is very fine, and she tells herself that she needs to lie low to find out the truth.

Now that the tension has been broken, Emma accepts a piece of meat from Aurora, who hands it to her with a hopeful smile. Emma returns the smile, knowing that she will need to play nice in order to find out what exactly they know.

"Why don't we start over?" Aurora suggests. "I'm Aurora and that's Mulan."

"Emma." Emma says.

"How did you end up here?" Mulan reaches for another piece of meat.

"I'm not sure." Emma bites off a large chunk of meat and chews the best she can despite her throbbing cheeks. "Several weeks ago I woke up in a large castle like building surrounded by people I didn't know, though many of them claimed to know me."

"Weird." Mulan comments, but her eyes dart quickly towards Aurora's.

"Yeah." Emma agrees. "It was total chaos. People were saying the strangest things, that they were transported by some place called _Storybrooke_ or something."

"Storybrooke, huh?" Aurora asks.

"Sounds odd, right? I thought it was just a dream but there's no way a dream lasts that long." She continues on with her story, detailing everything up until the attack.

"Wow." Aurora nods thoughtfully. "That's pretty intense."

Emma nods. "Now it's your turn. What happened to me? The last thing I remember was being thrown like thirty feet in the air by some big thing."

"It was an ogre." Mulan answers.

Emma snorts despite herself. "I'm sorry, _what?_"

"An ogre." Mulan repeats. Her face is all seriousness.

"An ogre? Like Shrek?"

"What?" Aurora cocks her head in confusion.

"Never mind." Emma waves her off.

"Ogres are one of the deadliest creatures in this land." Mulan says. "They say that the last thing you'll see is your reflection in their eyes as you die."

As soon as the words leave Mulan's lips, Emma finds herself no longer in their makeshift shelter. She is standing in a brightly lit forest, next to Mulan and a dark haired woman whose chin is startlingly similar to hers.

"_The last thing you'll see is your reflection in their eyes as you die."_

"The only way to kill them is with an arrow to the eye." Aurora adds.

"_Then shouldn't we be, I don't know, not lighting a fire?" _

"Emma?" A hand is waved in front of her face.

"_Ogres are blind." _

"What? Sorry." Emma gasps as she blinks, snapping to attention again, allowing her surroundings to come back into focus. "I just, uh, spaced out for a sec." She says absently, wondering what in hell that had been.

"As I was saying, we were in the forest when we saw the ogre. We were about to run when we saw it was holding onto someone. Mulan shot an arrow at it, causing it to release you." Aurora continues.

"Unfortunately, we didn't foresee that it would throw you in the air." Mulan says apologetically.

"When we found you, we thought you were dead." Aurora says. "We brought you back to our camp."

"Thanks." Emma says, meaning it. "For, uh, saving my life and all. Dying by ogre doesn't sound pleasant."

Neither was being thrown thirty feet in the air, though.

They settle comfortably into their makeshift beds. Another flask of tea is thrust into Emma's hands. She slowly sips it, watching the flickering flames as she allows the tea to slowly numb the throbbing in her body. Emma finds herself growing sleepier and sleepier as the tea gradually disappears.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Mulan throw Aurora a furtive look. But that must just be a trick of the light, Emma thinks as she yawns.

"Have we ever told you about the time we climbed a beanstalk?" Aurora asks suddenly.

"Mmm?" Emma mumbles. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, it wasn't us." Mulan corrects. "It was one of our friends. She and her mother needed the compass to get home to their family. They'd come from a far off land and desperately needed to go back."

Mulan and Aurora begin to weave a tale about their friend who'd volunteered to go up the dangerous beanstalk with an untrustworthy, smarmy mouthed pirate to face a lethal giant.

To Emma, this chick sounded pretty badass. Climbing beanstalks, facing giants, outsmarting a pirate.

As she slowly falls into a deep sleep, images of giants, gold treasures, compasses, and a strange man with a hook for a hand flicker in her mind. That night, she dreams of herself climbing a tall beanstalk alongside a dark haired man. Pointing a sharp sword at a giant. Retrieving a compass and scaling back down the beanstalk, the world spinning violently.

She has the strangest sense that _she _was the one who'd done all those things. But how is _that_ possible?


End file.
